


Caribbean Shores

by jdmusiclover



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst and Humor, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-05-08
Packaged: 2018-03-22 19:26:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 41,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3740761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdmusiclover/pseuds/jdmusiclover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU.  After a nasty breakup with her long-time boyfriend, Emma Swan takes a job as the security guard at Once Upon a Time Academy.  She reluctantly agrees to attend the school’s annual fundraising gala, Caribbean Shores. Prepared for a boring night, Emma has no idea what’s in store for her when Killian Jones, the sexy new owner of the Jolly Roger Marina, is seated next to her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Emma Swan balanced the take-out bag precariously in one hand as she dug for her key with the other.  She sorted through all manner of crap in her purse, but the one thing her hand _didn’t_ come in contact with was the key to her apartment.

 _Figures_. 

With the kind of day she’d had today, why did she think anything would go right?

Cursing fluently under her breath, she set her dinner on the hallway floor and made a more thorough search of her bag…and her coat…and her pockets.  Nothing.

Finally admitting defeat, she groaned, closed her eyes, and rested her forehead against the smooth wood of her door.

It had been a long day and all she wanted was comfort food, a bottle of red wine (or possibly something stronger), and a movie that might make her forget the freak show that was her life.  Looks like that wasn’t happening anytime soon.

Emma dug out her phone—which, thank God _was_ in her bag right where she put it—and considered who she should call. 

Her roommate Mary Margaret had a date with her boyfriend David tonight.  _Shocker_.  Emma didn’t think those two spent half a minute apart anymore.  It was like they shared a heart or something.

She could always try her other roommate, Ruby, but, well, it was Friday night and the chances of her being home—or anywhere quiet enough that she could actually hear her phone—were slim to none.  Ruby gave the phrase “party animal” a whole new meaning.

Groaning again, Emma sank down until she was seated on the hallway floor, her head resting against her apartment door.  She could pick the lock, of course; as a former bail bonds person it was well within her bag of tricks, but for a moment she just wanted to wallow in self-pity.

And given what day it was, she deserved a few minutes to wallow.

It was one year ago today she’d gone through what she liked to call the breakup from hell.

Emma laughed humorlessly.  She’d actually thought she was beginning to get her life together.   She’d built quite a career for herself.  As a bail bonds person she was the best of the best.  Emma Swan always got her man.  She was so successful her clients had dubbed her “the savior.”

And then she’d met Walsh and fallen in love.  Granted he wasn’t the most exciting man she’d ever dated, and there was always _something_ missing, but he was a good guy and he treated her well.

At least that’s what she thought up until that fateful night one year ago. 

Up until the night he’d…but she didn’t want to think about it anymore.  Suffice it to say, it had taught her a very important lesson.  A happy ending wasn’t in the cards for “the savior”; the sooner she got that through her head the sooner she could move on with her life and be…well, if not quite happy…at least numb.  Feeling nothing is a pretty attractive option when what you feel sucks.

After she’d kicked Walsh’s worthless ass to the curb, she’d curled up on her couch and called the only “family” she had, her college roommate and best friend Mary Margaret Blanchard.

And Mary Margaret had tossed her a lifeline. 

After spilling the whole, sordid tale, Emma lamented that she just wanted to get away.  She was sick of the city.  Sick of the kind of scum of the earth she hunted for a living.  Sick of the kind of losers that were apparently the only men she could find to date.  Sick of her crap life.  Sick of everything.

She was running, and she knew it.

Emma expected Mary Margaret to call her on it, make some comment about how she can’t run away from her problems, or about how she needed to hold on to hope, or how she needed to stick it out and make lemonade out of the lemons life handed her.

But Mary Margaret had surprised her.  It seems Once Upon a Time Academy, the small private elementary school where Mary Margaret taught was in desperate need of a security guard.  Graham Humbert, their previous guard, had recently passed away quite suddenly.  A heart attack, apparently.  It was all very sudden and shocking, and the small community of Storybrooke, Maine was reeling from it.  Mary Margaret urged Emma to apply for the job.

And so, within two weeks of the breakup from hell, Emma packed up her plush New York apartment, moved in with Mary Margaret and her roommate Ruby Lucas, and began life as the security guard for an exclusive school in a sleepy little town.

It was kind of nice, really.  She liked the relaxed pace of the town.  She liked the fact that everyone knew everyone else.  She liked that her days were spent with adorable little tots drawing her pictures and giving her hugs as they made their way to their busses at the end of the day.  She liked that the worst she had to deal with was the occasional pair of fourth graders getting into a tussle on the playground.

It hadn’t all been rainbow kisses and unicorn stickers, of course.  She’d had more than her fair share of run-ins with Regina Mills, the principal of Once Upon a Time.  Yeah, there was a reason Ms. Mills was known among the students as “the evil queen.”

But as the months had passed, she and Regina had eventually come to a truce…and then formed a kind of grudging friendship.  The woman might be gruff and abrasive at times, but she wasn’t really a villain.

Apparently, several years ago, she’d had a brief and well-publicized marriage to Leopold Blanchard, the founder of Once Upon a Time Academy, and Mary Margaret’s father.  The far older man had died under suspicious circumstances, and many people had believed Regina had a hand in it somehow but nothing was ever proven. 

Whoever Regina had been back then, she seemed to be genuinely trying to turn her life around now.  Emma secretly suspected a certain groundskeeper at the academy by the name of Robin Locksley had a lot to do with it.  The way those two looked at each other—yearning looks and doe-y eyes—yeah, there’s no way there wasn’t something going on there.

And that brought Emma to the events of today.

Regina called an emergency staff meeting for the end of the school day—a staff meeting that every person employed by Once Upon a Time Academy was required to attend.  Emma went into the conference room with some amount of wariness.  Anytime Regina called a full-staff meeting it was a safe bet there was nothing good coming.

Emma, running late, scanned the room as she arrived.  She certainly wasn’t the only one apprehensive coming into this thing.  From Mary Margaret anxiously furrowing her brow, to David Nolan, the gym teacher, holding her hand and frowning, to Leroy Little, curmudgeonly janitor extraordinaire scowling fiercely enough to kill, to librarian Belle French obsessively looking through a huge tome as though hoping to find the reason for the summons, to everyone in between, everyone seemed to be preparing for bad news.  (Well, everyone except Robin Locksley, who merely sat at the front, looking with obvious pride up at Regina who stood regally in her no-nonsense black pant-suit.)

“Hey sister!” Leroy grumbled, “could we get this show on the road.  It’s Friday night and some of us have plans!”

“Oy! What kind of plans?” Will Scarlet, assistant groundskeeper, tossed over his shoulder.  “We ain’t stupid.  Not like you got a date or something.”

“Hey!” Leroy thundered, getting to his full—if diminutive—stature.  “I’ll have you know I get more action in a weekend than you’ve gotten your entire life!”

“Why you little…”

Regina cleared her throat and shot the two men a look so venomous it’s a wonder they didn’t fall over dead on the spot.

“As amusing as this little argument is turning out to be, could we get back to the topic at hand?” she asked icily.

Emma leaned back in the chair she’d taken next to her roommate.  “Yeah, Ms. Mills, just what might that ‘topic’ be?”

Regina shot her an exasperated look.  “What else?  The gala!”

Emma groaned inwardly.  The gala; the school’s big yearly fundraising event.  For the past several weeks, flyers, posters and letters had been popping up all over town:

“You are warmly invited to our 28th annual Once Upon a Time Academy spring gala: CARIBBEAN SHORES!  April 18, 2015 at “The Mansion”.  We will be dancing to the music of the Dwarfs!  (The Dwarfs are a well-known six piece, national band, coving the hits across all ages and genres!  Expect to have fun with The Dwarfs, who tell us they don’t just give a concert, _they throw a party_!  Dress: from black tie to Blackbeard.”

It sounded cheesy as hell, and Emma was bound and determined to have _nothing_  to do with it. 

Easier said than done around here.  It was all anyone could talk about—particularly Regina.  Apparently the proceeds would be used to update technology at the school, and Regina was determined that this year’s gala would be the most successful ever. 

“It has come to my attention,” Regina said in a low voice, sweeping the entire assembly with an icy glare, “that there are those in this very room who not only haven’t bought their tickets yet, but who aren’t even planning to attend.”

Emma squirmed uncomfortably and averted her gaze.

“Let me be abundantly clear,” Regina continued.  “That is utterly unacceptable.  As an employee of this institution, you _will_ attend the gala, and you will enjoy yourself while you’re there.”

“Good luck mandating that,” Emma muttered under her breath.

“Miss Swan,” Regina said, narrowing her eyes, “Is there something you want to share with the group?”

Emma rolled her eyes.  “Ms. Mills, don’t you think you’re being a little…um…unreasonable.”

“No, I do not,” she snapped.  “What’s more, if you have not yet made your plans for the evening, I’d suggest you do so ASAP.  As representatives of this school, I expect each and every one of you to not only attend, but fully immerse yourselves in the theme of the night.”

And as the meeting went on, Emma learned exactly what that meant.  Pirates.  Regina was mandating they all come dressed as freaking _pirates!_

When Emma protested….loudly….and with a few well-placed off color words…Regina was swift to pounce.  For her insubordination and profanity, Emma was drafted into the welcome committee.  Not only did she have to attend the gala—as a freaking pirate’s wench—she had to get there early, sign attendees in, and warmly welcome them.

Just thinking about the ridiculous meeting…and just what she’d been roped into…made Emma groan again as she began banging her head against her apartment door.  Suddenly the smooth wood gave from behind her, and Emma found herself sprawled on her back, looking up at a very confused Ruby.

“Emma?” she asked, “what are you _doing_ down there?”

Emma got awkwardly to her feet, snagged her dinner and clomped into the apartment.  “Forgot my key.”

Ruby closed the door and Emma could feel the bemused look her roommate was sending her way.  “Okay….why didn’t you knock?”

“It’s Friday night.  Figured you’d be out partying.”

“I was just about to,” Ruby said excitedly, and for the first time, Emma got a good look at her.  She wore a tight red dress that looked to have less material than some of Emma’s belts.  With her sky-high stilettoes and matching handbag, she looked ready to take on the town.  “Victor and I are meeting David and Mary Margaret at The Rabbit Hole.  You should _totally_ come with us!”

“Yeah…no thanks,” Emma said, dropping her take-out and coat on the table and sinking onto the couch.  “Not really in the mood to be the fifth wheel tonight.”

“Don’t worry about that!” Ruby insisted, plopping down on the other end of the sofa.  “I’m sure Victor can find one of his friends to set you up with.”

Emma winced, remembering the last time Victor tried to set her up with one of his friends.  What was the guy’s name?  _Something_ Nottingham.  He kept referring to himself as the Sheriff of Nottingham, and he was probably the biggest lech alive.

“Thanks anyway Ruby, but it’s been a hell of a day.  I think I’ll just hang out here and watch The Princess Bride or something.”

“Uh oh,” Ruby said, giving her a sympathetic look, “if you’re pulling out The Princess Bride, this must have been one horrible day.  What happened?”

Emma shrugged.  “Not much really, other than a full staff meeting that Regina called.”  Emma dropped her eyes and started picking at a loose thread on the sofa.  “It’s more the day itself rather than anything that happened.  It’s the anniversary of…well…Walsh.”

“Oh…” Ruby said, moving forward and placing a comforting hand on Emma’s shoulder.  “Yeah, that counts as a Princess Bride kind of day.  I’m just surprised you haven’t broken out the chocolate and hard liquor yet.”

Emma grimaced.  “Don’t think I haven’t been tempted.  It’s kind of pathetic, I know.  It’s been a year.  Shouldn’t bother me so much anymore.”

Ruby was silent for long moments, and finally Emma looked up at her.  _Big mistake_.  Her friend’s eyes were twin pools of sympathy, and Emma felt herself begin to tear up.  She viciously swiped at her eyes, telling herself she absolutely would not waste another tear on that son of a bitch.

“He hurt you,” Ruby said finally.  “Bad.  You’re allowed to be emotional today.  Just…don’t let it keep you from living your life.  Sometimes you have to kiss a few flying monkeys before you find your prince.”

Well, Emma had never heard the saying quite like that.  Still, it was oddly appropriate.

“Yeah,” Emma said, finally, “it’s just…maybe all that love and romance stuff isn’t for me.  My track record with men is terrible.”

“Just haven’t met the right one yet!” Ruby insisted, a gleam coming into her eyes.  “And that’s why you should agree to come to the gala!”

Emma dropped her face into her hands and shook her head.  She should have known this was coming.  As co-owner of Lucas, Lucas and Whale, an exclusive event planning firm, Ruby was one of the main forces behind putting the gala together.  As such, she’d been hounding Emma to get a ticket for what felt like years.

“Now Emma, just hear me out…”

“No need,” Emma said, raising her hands in surrender.  “That’s the other terrible thing that happened today.  Regina mandated we all attend.”

Ruby squealed and bounced up and down on the couch.

Emma sighed.  Best get it all out there.  “And while we’re on the topic, looks like I’ll need to take a trip down to your other shop.  Regina threatened me within an inch of my life if I didn’t come as a pirate wench.”

Another squeal.  This one so high pitched it probably had all the dogs in the neighborhood on high alert.  In addition to her event planning firm, Ruby also owned and managed Big Bad Wolf, Storybrookes first and only costume shop.

“Oh Emma!” Ruby said, clapping her hands together.  “I have the _perfect_ costume for you!  You’ll make quite the sensation.”

“Ruby,” Emma said, not trusting the gleam in her friends eye, “just to be clear, if the adjectives sexy, slutty or trampy could be used to describe it, it’s out.”

Ruby pouted.  “You have no faith in me at all!”

Emma looked pointedly at Ruby’s lack of a dress.

“Well, fine!” Ruby said, “just because I like to display my assets doesn’t mean I want to force anyone else to.  I can find you a costume that will make you look amazing even if you do have a ridiculous thing against flaunting what you’ve got.”

“Hope so.  It’ll be bad enough rubbing elbows with the parents of our students without giving them a peep show.”

“Just leave it to me, Emma.  You’ll be fabulous.”

They lapsed into silence for several moments, and then Ruby turned toward her again.  “In all seriousness Emma, this will be good for you.  It’s time to start living again.  You deserve to be happy as much as any of the rest of us, and maybe this gala is the first step.  And who knows.  Maybe you’ll even meet a sexy pirate captain who’ll sweep you off your feet  and make you forget Walsh even exists.”

 

~+~+~+~+~+~+~

 

_Notes:_

_\--Welcome to my first ever AU (at least my first ever AU that veers significantly from canon)!  I’ve never attempted such a thing before, but recent events in my own life suggested this story to my mind, and it demands to written!_

_\--This story was inspired by my church’s annual fundraising gala which will be held this coming Saturday.  Normally the gala is held over the Kentucky Derby weekend, and that’s the theme, but this year, they decided to try something different.  The theme is Caribbean Shores and we’re all being encouraged to dress as pirates.  (I_ may _have gotten myself a pirate’s wench costume that I plan to wear.    Should the costume work out, I_ may _post photographic proof on my Tumblr page (whimsicallyenchantedrose)).  By the way, the promo flier in this chapter is almost word for word what my church sent out with the invitations (the band they’re hiring, however, is not named the Dwarfs!)  Anyway, my church’s gala was just begging to be made into a CS AU!_

 _\--I didn’t get as much accomplished in this chapter as I intended.  I did manage to introduce_ most _of my characters (except a certain pirate captain we all know and love!), but I had hoped to have a scene from Killian’s point of view (and explain how exactly he fits into all of this) as well as my scene from Emma’s POV.  Well, fellow obsessive Killian fans, never fear.  Our favorite pirate is forthcoming in the next chapter!_


	2. Chapter 2

            Killian stared listlessly out the window, watching as Storybrooke residents ambled past, enjoying the weather that was _finally_ beginning to turn warm.  Twilight was setting in, and tonight it painted the sky with vibrant colors.

            Milah would have loved it.  She’d adored sunsets—their beauty, their promise, their reminder that no matter how difficult the day, joy was always just around the bend, waiting to be grasped.

            The ache in his heart flared to life once again, and he brought the rum bottle to his lips.  It had been five years.  Five _bloody_ years! And the pain had yet to fade.  Would he ever be capable of moving on with his life?  How did one move on from a thing like this?

            The memories rushed in once more and played through his mind in an endless, agonizing loop.  The pain, the blood, the utter viciousness of it all.  Maybe if he hadn’t pushed her…maybe if they hadn’t fought that last day…maybe if he’d seen the signs.  So many “maybes” and “what ifs”, and none of them mattered.  All that mattered was that she was dead.  Her beautiful, vibrant life viciously snuffed out far too soon.

            Killian had hoped the trial would bring him satisfaction, or at least peace, but when the sentence was handed down three months ago, and Milah’s brutal killer finally got the justice he deserved, all Killian felt was emptiness.  He felt a deep satisfaction that the bloody coward no longer walked the streets, no longer had the ability to terrorize innocent people, but in the end none of it really mattered.  It didn’t bring her back.

            His friends had tried help him push past it; they really had, but no one could truly understand the utter blackness that was his life.  He’d been a mess; there was no way around it.  He’d spent night after night drinking himself into oblivion, flirting outrageously, taking a different woman back to his flat nearly every weekend—and sometimes during the week.  Anything to make the pain go away, even for a few moments.

            He’d had an express ticket to dissipation and ruin; that was for sure.

            Finally, his mate Ariel and her husband Eric had staged an intervention of sorts.  Made him realize he couldn’t go on as he’d been.  Slowly killing himself with rum was a poor way to honor Milah’s memory.

            They were right, and he knew it.  He had to find a way to go on and live his life, but how was that possible?  Everywhere he looked he saw reminders of his love, reminders of what he would never have again. 

            In the end, he’d made the decision that he needed a change.  Not a little change, a complete and radical change.  So he’d sold his London flat, packed up his belongings and moved to the States.  His best mate, David Nolan, had long been urging him to make the move; insisting he had a spare room where Killian could crash until he found his bearings.

            The move had been a good decision.  In the month since he’d arrived in Storybrooke, Maine, he’d slowly begun to heal.  It was as though the fog had ever so slowly begun to lift.  He may not be happy yet, but at least the pain had lessened to a bearable level.

            He’d no sooner landed in Storybrooke than the opportunity to chase his dreams had fallen into his lap.  William Smee, owner of the Storybrooke Marina, announced his retirement the morning after Killian moved into David’s apartment.  If Killian had been asked to describe his perfect job, his wildest fantasies wouldn’t hold a candle to the one opening up before him.  It was like he was _meant_ to be here in this sleepy little town.

            Killian had taken over the marina in short order, making improvements, modernizing equipment, fixing up the broken down boat house, reinventing the business. In a sudden fit of whimsy, he’d changed the name from the plain, uninspired “Storybrooke Marina” to the far more colorful “Jolly Roger Marina.”  His lovely lady of the same name sat tethered to the pier, available anytime life became too overwhelming and he needed the peace and freedom the open waters provided.

            Aye, life was certainly moving forward.  Most days he felt _almost_ content, _almost_ peaceful. 

            It was only nights like this where the heavy pall of grief and pain and anger draped once again over his shoulders.  Nights when the idyllic beauty around him taunted him, mocked him, made him see his lovely Milah everywhere he turned.

            Killian brought the bottle to his lips for another swig—only to find it empty.  _Bloody hell!_

            The apartment door opened, and David strode in, ridiculously sappy smile draping his face.  Must have been with Mary Margaret.  The two of them were nearly sickening with their love. 

            David tossed his keys onto the key ring by the door and carelessly draped his bomber jacket over the coat rack.  He looked up, obviously caught sight of Killian, and the smile slowly melted from his face.

            Killian held up his empty bottle of Captain Morgan in a mock salute.  “Dave, why is the rum always gone?”

            David grimaced as he took the chair facing Killian.  “Probably because you drank it all?”

            Killian set the bottle clumsily on the end table and laughed humorlessly.  “Aye, there is that.”

            David looked at him for long moments.  “That kind of a day, huh?”

            Killian shrugged. 

            “Want to talk about it?”

            Killian looked over at him.  “What’s there to say, mate?”

            David nodded, clapped him on the shoulder, and simply sat back in his chair.  Killian relaxed.  David knew precisely how to handle these times when his demons threatened to take over.  No trite sayings.  No empty words of sympathy.  No naively optimistic insistence that things would look better tomorrow.  No attempt to _fix_ what couldn’t be fixed.  Just unfailing support.  Just a compassionate ear and a sympathetic presence. 

            It had always been this way.

            Killian and David had met several years ago when David came to the UK for a semester abroad.  They’d been roommates for the semester and had hit it off almost immediately.  David had been a steady, solid presence during one of the worst times of Killian’s life.

            A month and a half into the semester, Killian got the call that his brother Liam, his only family, his rock and his hero, had been lost at sea in a freak accident.  David had seen him through the worst of the grief, the worst of the depression, the worst of the hopelessness.  In a lot of ways, Killian thought David had saved his life that semester.  He’d talked him off the ledge, metaphorically speaking, more times than Killian could count.

            It’s experiences like that that truly cement a relationship.  David was more than Killian’s best mate; in a lot of ways he was his brother.

            Killian sighed.  “I’m just a bit melancholy tonight, I suppose.  I thought when the trial ended…when the sentence was passed down, I’d finally be able to get some closure.”

            “But it didn’t make the pain go away; is that it?” David finished for him.

            “Aye, precisely.”

            David had warned him to steer clear of Milah; warned him that getting involved with a married woman could only end in heart break, but Killian had waved his concerns away.  Milah was intoxicating; never had he felt so fully _alive_ as the time he spent with her.  Guilt rolled through him.  Maybe if he’d taken David’s advice to heart, Milah would still be alive.  He would have missed out on the ecstasy that was their life together, but at least she’d still be _alive_.

            “You can’t blame yourself,” David said.  It was uncanny how the man could read his mind sometimes.  “You didn’t kill her; you had no control over the beast who did.  Whatever mistakes or errors in judgment you might have made, her death isn’t on you.”

            “Doesn’t make the guilt go away,” Killian mumbled, running a hand through his inky black hair.  “You warned me of the consequences.  If I hadn’t given in to my baser instincts, she might still be alive.”

            David shrugged.  “Maybe; maybe not.  She was miserable in her marriage.  If it hadn’t been you, she would have found some other way to make her escape.  At least you gave her love and joy before the end.  That’s more than a lot of people get.”

            Killian got up and started pacing, his face set in a grim line.  Somehow, some way he had to find a new topic of conversation.  He’d mourned enough over the last five years to last a lifetime.

            “So how was the big staff meeting Ms. Mills subjected you to today?”

            David grinned.  “Typical Regina, ruling the school with an iron fist.”

            “What was Her Majesty’s decree this time around?”

            “Everyone affiliated with the school is required—not encouraged, _required_ —to attend the gala next weekend—and in costume to boot,” David said with a grin.  “Went over like a lead balloon in some circles.  Mary Margaret’s roommate in particular looked ready to explode.”

            Killian grinned.  David had spoken of the elusive Emma Swan before, although Killian had yet to meet her.  Sounded like the sort you pissed off at your own peril.

            “So you’re to be a fearsome pirate next weekend, aye?”

            “Actually,” David said with another grin, “no.  Mary Margaret talked Regina into letting us go a different direction with our costumes.”

            “Aye?” Killian asked, once again taking his seat.  “And if you are not to be a buccaneer on the high seas, who precisely are you to be?”

            “What is a pirate without royalty to steal from?” David asked.  “I’m planning to be Prince Charming, and of course, Mary Margaret will be my lovely Snow White.”

            _Talk about type-casting!_

            David looked over at Killian speculatively.  “Hey, what are you doing next Saturday night?”

            Killian gave him a wary look.  That tone of his voice never boded well.  “Hadn’t thought that far in advance, mate.”

            “Why don’t you come to the gala with us?” David asked.  “Maybe it’ll get Regina off our backs for a while if we bring in extra people.  This whole ‘new technology’ drive is making her crazy.”

            “I don’t know…” Killian said, drawing out the phrase.  Attending a fundraising gala for an elementary school?  It sounded deadly dull.

            “Oh, come on, Killian!” David insisted.  “You’ve got your ‘Captain Hook’ costume from that pirate demonstration you had on the _Jolly_ last year.  It could be fun.”

            “Dave…”

            “Besides,” David said with something of a cryptic look in his eye, “if I have my way, this is going to be a big night for me.  I want you to be the first to know….”

            “What exactly are you planning?” Killian asked, curious in spite of himself.

            David reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, red, velvet bag.  Peering inside, Killian saw a silver ring with a single green stone.

            “Mary Margaret is _it_ for me,” David said simply.  “No sense in waiting around anymore.  Saturday’s the day I pop the question.”

            Killian grinned.  _About damn time!_   David and Mary Margaret hadn’t been together more than five minutes before _everyone_ knew those two would be together forever.  They were _that_ couple.  No doubt they would be the wizened old couple who sat together on park benches, still holding hands after fifty years of wedded bliss.

            “Congratulations, mate!”  Killian said, clapping his friend on the back.

            “Well, don’t congratulate me yet,” David said with a self-deprecating look.  “She hasn’t said yes yet.”

            Killian rolled his eyes.  “Mere formality.  You two have been as good as engaged since the moment you clapped eyes on each other.”

            “Maybe so,” David said happily.  “So what about it?  Will you come to the gala and be the first to congratulate me when it’s finally official?”

            _Well, why not?_   It wasn’t as though he had any pressing engagements.  He’d yet to meet more than a handful of Storybrooke residents.  Perhaps a pirate-themed gala could be amusing.  And who was to know?  Perhaps he might even find a pirate wench to catch his fancy.

            “Aye,” Killian said finally.  “Looks like you’ve got Captain Hook as your moral support for the night.”

 

~+~+~+~+~+~+~

           

Emma tied the laces of her corset as loosely as she thought Ruby would let her get away with, and then stepped before the full-length mirror on her bedroom door.  She looked…ridiculous, but not quite as ridiculous as she’d expected.  With her long, full skirt, blousy white top, leather corset and knee high boots, she actually looked pretty good.

            Of course, she’d prefer if her neckline wasn’t basically down to her naval, but she’d allowed Ruby to choose her costume.  What was she to expect?  At least her billowing cloak and long blonde hair would probably provide some coverage.

            “Emma!” Ruby called, rapping sharply on her bedroom door, “I know you’re dressed by now!  Let us get a look!”

            Emma took a deep breath—well, as deep as she could manage while wearing a corset—and stepped out into the apartment’s common area.

            “Oh, Emma, you look amazing!” Mary Margaret breathed, her hands clasped below her chin. 

            “Thanks,” Emma said getting her first good look at her best friend.  “You look…like a princess.  Where’s your pirate attire?”

            Mary Margaret glanced down at her lavender ball gown and then reached up to touch her sparkling tiara.  “Um…I talked Regina into letting me…modify the theme.”

            “How the hell did you manage that?”

            Ruby—dressed in characteristically skimpy pirate attire—sidled up to Mary Margaret and took her arm.  “What’s the point of having a room full of pirates if there isn’t a royal couple for them to pillage and plunder?”

            “So, you’re, what?  Cinderella?” Emma asked.

            “Snow white, actually,” Mary Margaret said eagerly.  “I’m ready to go to the ball and meet Prince David Charming!”

            Emma didn’t remember that part of the fairy tale, but whatever floated her boat.

            “Enough chit chat!” Ruby said, pulling Emma toward the bathroom.  “You’ve got wardrobe down; now it’s time for hair and make-up.  We’ve got work to do!”

            “We still have an hour before we have to leave for the gala,” Emma protested.  “Somehow I feel like I should be insulted that you think it will take that long to make me presentable.”

            “Don’t be ridiculous,” Mary Margaret said, stepping in after them and plugging in her curling iron.  “It’s just that we want you to look…stunning tonight.”

            Ruby gently shoved her onto the bar stool she’d placed before the vanity and began digging through her bag of make-up.  “You never know what the night might bring.  You want to be prepared for anything!”

            Emma’s bs detector went off.  These two were up to something. 

“Ruby, what’s really going on?” She asked, eyes narrowed.

            Ruby gave her a wide-eyed, innocent look.  “Going on?  I have _no_ idea what you’re talking about.  I just want my roommate to have a wonderful night out!”

            Emma’s internal lie detector roared to life.

            “Mary Margaret?”  She turned to face her best friend, who was extremely busy _not_ looking at her.

            “Can’t friends just help each other prepare for a party?” she asked, refusing to meet Emma’s eyes.  She looked guilty as hell.

            “Uh-uh,” Emma said, shaking her head and feeling a sharp tug from the curling iron Mary Margaret had just applied to her hair.  “Not buying it.  I have a thing with lies, remember?  You two are up to something, and I want to know exactly what that something is.”

            “Now, Emma, don’t get mad,” Mary Margaret said with a placating motion of her hand.

            Any explanation that begins with that sentence can’t end well.

            “Just what should I not get mad about?”

            “Well..” Mary Margaret said, “we just want you to find love.  You know David has a new roommate and…”

            “Mary Margaret!” Ruby gasped.  “It was supposed to be a secret!”

            “I’m sorry!” Mary Margaret wailed, “but she deserves to know.”

            “Ugh!” Ruby groaned.  “You can’t keep a secret worth crap!  I knew we shouldn’t have told you!”

            “What do you mean, you shouldn’t have told me?” Mary Margaret asked, rounding on Ruby.  “ _I_ was the one who came up with the idea!”

            “Yeah?” Ruby said, her hands coming to rest on her shapely hips. “Well maybe you shouldn’t have told yourself!”

            _What_ did these two do?  Emma adopted her best bad-ass bounty hunter look.  “You,” she said pointing to Ruby, “shush, and you” pointing at Mary Margaret this time “talk.”

            “Well, Killian’s a good guy,” Mary Margaret said.  “Just moved here from England.  He’d had some sort of heartbreak or other that led him to move here, but David won’t give me any details.”

            Ruby huffed.   “Shocker.  As bad as you are at keeping secrets the whole state would know that man’s life story!”

            Emma gave Ruby a quelling glare, and then turned back toward Mary Margaret.  “So you’re what?  Setting me up with him?”

            “Well…yeah.  You two would make a great couple, and Emma, you deserve to be happy!”

            “Does he know about this?  Mystery British guy, I mean?”

            “Well, no,” Mary Margaret said.  “It was supposed to be a spontaneous thing.  You know, lonely woman meets lonely man.  They start talking and chemistry happens, and the next thing you know, they have a house and a picket fence and 2.5 kids.  The American dream!”

            That .5 of a kid might beg to differ.

            “So how exactly does matchmaking figure in to this ‘spontaneous meeting’?”

            “We just figured ‘spontaneity’ might need a little…boost,” Ruby said.

            “Killian really is a nice guy,” Mary Margaret reiterated.  “He’s just…well, he’s reluctant to move forward after his last relationship that ended badly.  We figured, if we, well, massaged circumstances a little bit, it could be true love and happily ever after and all that fairy tale stuff.”

            Emma groaned.  “Fine.  Just what might this ‘nice guy’ look like?”

            “I mean, he doesn’t hold a candle to David, of course, but he’s not bad,” Mary Margaret said.

            Ruby barked out a laugh.  “Are you kidding?  Killian Jones is hot as hell.  If I wasn’t already taken, I’d totally tap that.”

            Emma face-palmed.

            “Emma,” Mary Margaret said, placing a hand on Emma’s shoulder, “we just want to see you happy.  You deserve a lot better than jerks like Walsh.  Just…give Killian a chance, okay?  That’s all we ask.”

            Emma took a breath and slowly let it go.  “Fine, but if you two embarrass me in public with your matchmaking gig, you’ll live to regret it.”

 

 

_Notes:_

_\--Poor tortured Killian!  I had to bring out both Emma’s and Killian’s brokenness to start out, but hey!  Maybe these two lost ones can find each other and finally be whole again._

_\--My original intent was to have Emma and Killian  meet each other more or less by chance, but I just couldn’t resist matchmaking Ruby and Mary Margaret!  Ruby was right though—there was no way Mary Margaret could keep their secret forever!_

_\--Up next:  I’ve set out all the backstory and introduced the characters.  Now it’s time to move on to the main event.  It’s the night of the gala and Emma and Killian finally meet.  Flirting, innuendo and a fair amount of eye-rolling ensue.  After a couple of at least partly angsty chapters, it’s time for some fluff!_


	3. Chapter 3

            This year the gala was being held at “The Mansion”, a stately old manner house on the edge of town.  Emma got her first good look at it as she stepped out of her yellow bug.  It was the very picture of aristocratic elegance—beautifully landscaped with terraces and balconies on all sides.  Light spilled invitingly from each of the many windows that lined the front.

            “Isn’t this place great?” Ruby asked enthusiastically as she hopped from the passenger side of the vehicle.

            “I guess,” Emma said with a shrug.  “Hard to tell from the outside.”

            “Just _wait_ until you see what we did with the decorations in the ball room,” Ruby continued.  “Emma, you’ll swear you stepped right into the swashbuckling Caribbean!”

            The two began walking toward the majestic front door which bore a sign proclaiming “Walk the plank, ye lily livered landlubber!”  Emma grinned.  Never let it be said that Ruby did things by half measures.  Of course, one might question the wisdom of insulting your guests as they enter your big fundraiser.

            “So what exactly is the itinerary for the night?”  Emma asked as they took the narrow stone path and the staircase up to the entrance.

            “Well, we’ll start with the silent auction,” Ruby said.  Emma vaguely remembered Regina sending out an email or two (or fifty?) reminding faculty and staff to donate items and services for said auction.  Emma always promptly filed those emails in the trash bin.

            “People can, you know, mill around and make their bids before the real festivities begin.  Dinner’s promptly at 7:00, then there’ll be the entertainment and dancing.”

            “Entertainment?” Emma asked, curiously.  “You’ve been talking about this gala nonstop for the past half year, and you never mentioned anything about entertainment.  Just what do you have planned?”

            Ruby gave her a wicked grin.  “That, my friend, is for me to know and for you to find out.”

            Well that wasn’t disturbing or anything.  Whatever Ruby had planned, it was bound to be…interesting…if she found it necessary to conceal the details.

            “Granny” Lucas met Emma and Ruby in the vaulted entrance hall.  Ruby’s business partner and grandmother, Granny was a fixture in Storybrooke.

            “Good, you’re finally here,” She said dragging Ruby forward.  “Ruby, you were supposed to be here half an hour ago.  What did I tell you about being late?”

            “Um…don’t do it?” Ruby asked with a roll of the eyes.

            Granny grunted.  “Yeah.  I’ve been holding down the fort for the past hour, and things are starting to get crazy.”

            “I’m sorry!” Ruby pouted, sounding anything but.  “I had to get ready for my big pirate debut.  This look takes time.”

            Granny lifted her eye patch, her one concession to the pirate theme, and looked Ruby over critically.  “Not sure why.  Little as you’re wearing, couldn’t have taken more than five minutes to put that get up together.”

            “What can I say?” Ruby asked, striking a pose, “when you’ve got it, flaunt it.”

            Granny muttered something under her breath, and then ushered Emma and Ruby toward a room to the right.

            “Okay,” Granny said, pointing to a table along the far wall.  “Best get ready, Emma.  People’ll be showing up any minute, and looks like you’ll have to handle check-in by yourself for the moment.  David called and said he and Mary Margaret are running late.”

            “Um...okay,” Emma said allowing herself to be led toward the check-in table.  In her year in Storybrooke, she’d learned that Granny was a force to be reckoned with—a force that it was wisest not to resist.  “What exactly am I supposed to do?”

            “Ruby, train Emma,” Granny ordered.  “I’ve got a pair of caterers to straighten out.  Dumb as a box of rocks, those two.  Can’t get a lick of work out of them.  One keeps going around singing about ‘Les Poisons’, whatever that means, and the other seems bound and determined to tell everyone he meets to be his guest.”

            Emma watched Granny storm off and rather pitied the pair of caterers.  Ruby gently shoved Emma into a seat behind the table.  “It’s simple,” she said, pulling a box from a far corner of the room, “People tell you their name, you give them their name tags (they’re here, filed alphabetically), tell them to go forth and buckle some swash, or some other pirate lingo, and just in generally be friendly.”

            Emma flipped through the box until she found her own nametag.  After affixing it to her costume, she turned back to her roommate.  “Yeah, not sure I do ‘friendly’.”

            “Don’t be ridiculous!” Ruby said moving toward the door.  “You can be friendly with the best of them when you set your mind to it.  Gotta go check on Granny; make sure she’s not terrorizing the caterers to death.”

            And then the whirlwind that was Ruby Lucas was gone, leaving Emma alone in the large room.  Things were pretty slow at first.  Luckily only a handful of people, dressed in various degrees of pirate, shuffled in before a breathless “Snow White” and “Prince Charming” raced in hand in hand.

            “Emma!  Sorry we’re late!” Mary Margaret wailed.  “We were…um…well…you see…um…we lost track of time.”

            Judging from the violent red flush that suddenly suffused Mary Margaret’s features, Emma was fully convinced she didn’t want to know what it was that caused the pair to forget they had a gala to attend.

            Emma shrugged.  “No big deal.  Not much happening yet.  Aside from a few parents, Marco and August were the only ones I had to check in.”

            Marco was the town carpenter and August, his author son.  Mary Margaret had tried to set Emma up with August not long after she came to town, but nothing really came of it.  Emma found the man a little...well…wooden.

            After a quick peck to Mary Margaret’s cheek, David took his seat to Emma’s left, gave her a friendly smile, and settled in.  Emma genuinely liked David.  He was an easy man to get to know, and almost from the beginning, he’d felt almost like family.  While Emma might be a magnet for the biggest losers of the male population, Mary Margaret had certainly snagged a keeper.

            Over the next half hour, the stream of gala guests steadily increased.  To her surprise, Emma found that she was actually starting to enjoy herself.  The festive mood that seemed to cling to everyone who arrived was kind of infectious.  She was beginning to think this might not be such a bad evening after all.

            And then _he_ arrived. 

She saw him the moment he stepped into the room.  With his messy, coal black hair, piercing blue eyes accented with a heavy coat of guy liner, five o’clock shadow, leather pants, red vest and long, heavy pirate duster, he was…well, there was no other word for it.  He was _gorgeous_. 

            Emma felt her jaw drop and her eyes widen as she watched him look around the room with interest.  He was mesmerizing.  He was magnetic.  He was sexy.

He was….walking her way. 

Emma saw the moment he caught sight of her.  His eyes lit up with amusement, and a devilish grin draped his mouth.  It was only then that Emma realized she was still ogling him, mouth hanging open.  For all she knew she was even drooling.

            _Crap!_

            Emma felt the flush in her cheeks as the man sauntered toward her, self-satisfied smirk firmly in place.  _Great!_

            “Who are you?” she asked as he arrived at her table, her voice far harsher than she’d intended.

            “Killian Jones,” he replied, British accent as smooth as silk, “but most people have taken to call me by my more colorful moniker.  Hook.”  He raised his left hand in which he was clutching a ridiculous cheap plastic nautical appendage.

            _This_ was Killian Jones?  The Killian Jones Ruby and Mary Margaret were trying to set her up with?  The one Mary Margaret insisted was a “nice guy”?  This man who was far too hot for his own good?  This man who seemed to know exactly how good-looking he was and just what effect he had on women?  This guy was who was clearly trouble with a capital T?

            Her roommates wanted her to hook up with _him_? 

Hell no!  Not happening.  No way she was going anywhere near this one.  She wasn’t going within ten feet of Killian Jones; he had “your next big mistake” written all over him.

            “As in ‘Captain Hook’?” she asked sarcastically, finally finding her voice.

            He leaned forward, giving her a slow, seductive wink.  “Ah, so you’ve heard of me!”

            He even _smelled_ good, damn him!—an intoxicating mix of leather and rum and the sea.

_Crap!_

Emma leaned back and crossed her arms.  “Yeah, everyone in the world has heard of you…or him…or whatever.”

            “Well, love, always good to make an impression.” he purred, his eyes lazily caressing her far-too exposed chest, which she’d unwittingly thrust into prominence with her arm cross.  She hastily arranged her hair to provide some coverage.  The son of a bitch gave her a knowing smirk and another wink.

            “Ahoy, there, Matey!” David said genially from her left, apparently none the wiser to the super charged dynamic going on right before his eyes.  To Emma’s profound relief, sexy pirate man turned his attention to his roommate.  This was turning into a disaster!  She needed to get control of her runaway hormones before Killian Jones’s ego got any bigger than it already was.  It was already big enough to cover most of the eastern seaboard.

            “Dave,” Killian said, inclining his head in greeting.  “How goes it tonight?”

            Apparently David’s state of mind was destined to remain shrouded in mystery.  Before he had a chance to answer, Mary Margaret hurried in, looked from Emma to Killian and then back again, and began pulling on her boyfriend’s arm.

            “Come on David,” she said, glancing once more at Emma.  “There’s an…um…well, an emergency that needs your attention.  Well, it’s not an emergency, emergency, but there’s…something I need you to do…I know you’re busy, but I _really_ need to talk to you.”

            David looked up at her in confusion.  “But, I’m supposed to be checking people in, Mary Margaret.  It’s starting to get busy.  I can’t just leave Emma alone.”

            Mary Margaret turned far-too innocent eyes on Killian.  “You could cover for David couldn’t you, Killian?  This will only take a few minutes.  Emma can show you what to do.”

            It was only with the greatest difficulty that Emma avoided groaning aloud.  Mary Margaret was laying the matchmaking wiles on thick, already.  This night was going to last _forever_!

            Killian grinned again, looking deeply into Emma’s eyes.  “It would be my pleasure.”

            Emma’s heart raced in spite of herself.  She was in trouble.  She was definitely, without doubt, without question in deep, deep trouble.

 

+C+S+C+S+C+S+C+S+C+S+

 

            Killian watched as David and his lady made their way from the room, and then slid smoothly into the seat beside the blonde beauty—the distinctly disgruntled blonde beauty.  With her flashing green eyes and luxurious locks, she was utterly exquisite.  Killian had the sudden, strong desire to take this woman into his arms and kiss that thunderous scowl off her face.

            “So, Emma, is it?” he asked, idly, fingering a curl that had tumbled over her shoulder. 

            She reached up and slapped his hand.  “Yeah.  Emma Swan.”

            He bowed with mock gallantry.  “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, love.”

            She turned flashing eyes his way.  “Not your love, Jones.”

            “Well,” he said wagging his eyebrows suggestively.  “Not yet anyway.”

            She rolled her eyes.  “Yeah, keep dreaming, buddy.”

            “As long as you’ll wander through my dreams I most certainly shall.”

            Without a rather unladylike huff, she turned away and began eloquently ignoring him.

            Killian smiled to himself as he turned to welcome a man identifying himself as Dr. Archie Hopper, school guidance counselor.  This evening was shaping up to be nothing short of a delight.

            Killian had noticed Emma the moment he stepped into the mansion.  Her beauty was captivating.  His breath caught as he watched her talk and laugh with David.  Something stirred within him at the sight of this lovely pirate lass, something that had been dormant and dead for five long and lonely years.  It was more than just attraction; he’d been in company with many desirable women, and they’d never affected him like this.  No, it was decidedly more than attraction.  It was a sudden, deep inexplicable connection, an understanding.  For the first time since losing Milah, he sensed life might yet hold untold wonders for him.

            As he stood there in the doorway, surveying his surroundings, she’d looked up and caught sight of him.  A red flush painted her cheeks, and her eyes darkened in awareness of him.  It was the most heady, intoxicating sight he’d seen in years.

            The sight of the woman’s obvious attraction made Killian’s inner dashing rapscallion roar to life, painted a devilish grin on his face.  The sight seemed to snap the blonde beauty out of her captivation, and the thunderclouds gathered on her brow.

            If possible, it made her even more beautiful.

            As the minutes passed, and the steady stream of gala attendees gradually waned, Killian darted surreptitious glances Emma’s direction.  “Some men would take your silence as off-putting,” he observed, “but I love a challenge.”

            She rolled her eyes.

            “It’s alright,” he continued with a shrug.  “I don’t need you to share.  You’re something of an open book, darling.”

            That got her attention.  She turned a skeptical glance his way.  “That right?”

            “Aye,” he nodded once.  “Love has been all too rare in your life.  Have you ever even been in love?”

            She dropped her eyes, and a look of pain came over her face.  Killian felt like a cad for causing it. 

            “Yeah,” she said quietly after long moments.  “Yeah, a couple of times.  Taught me to never go there again.”

            She raised tortured green eyes to him, and he drew in a deep breath, understanding her pain all too well.

            After a moment, she seemed to snap out of it, taking a deep breath of her own and then cursing softly under her breath.

            “Is something the matter, love?”

            “This damn corset is squeezing my lungs to a fine powder.  It’s a torture device,” she complained.

            He looked down at the very appealing results of her too-tight corset, and then gave her a grin that was pure sin.  “Your discomfort is a cross I’m willing to bear.”

            She rolled her eyes with a grin, and then adjusted her hair to cover her enticing décolletage once more.  Quite a shame, that.

            A hand clapped down on his shoulder.  “Thanks Killian,” David said.  “Crisis averted.  Looks like I can take over again.”

            Killian got to his feet with more reluctance than he ever would have expected.

            “So, anyway,” Emma said, with a careless wave of her hand.  “Go forth and pillage and plunder.”

            He leaned down until he was mere inches from her enticing mouth.  “Only if you’ll join me, darling.”

            Killian chuckled to himself as he ambled toward the ballroom, Emma Swan’s outraged splutters following in his wake.

            Aye, this evening was shaping up to be one to be remembered.

 

_Notes:_

_\--I laugh, because this story was supposed to be a tiny, fluffy little one shot, and now….three chapters in and I’ve only gotten as far as the gala check-in!  We still have the dinner, Ruby’s entertainment (Emma should be afraid; she should be very afraid), dancing and…various other events that I can’t yet divulge.  Then of course there will have to be a few chapters AFTER the gala to deal with the aftermath.  Yeah, I think I’m constitutionally unable to write a short story!_

_\--One note on the gala location.  I realize the name “The Mansion” is kind of…boring, but I chose it because that’s the name of the venue of my own gala!  As for my story’s “The Mansion”?  I’m patterning it on the manner house at the edge of town where Rumbelle spent their honeymoon and Rumple tried to hat Emma and the Frozen people took the door portal back to their home.  Also, as to the sign that hung over the mansion “Walk the plank, ye lily livered landlubber!” I came up with that after spending some serious quality time on websites offering visitors authentic pirate insults.  It was very entertaining!_

_\--Alright, so now that Killian and Emma have finally met, cs flirting, running, deeply connecting, and general romancing can officially begin.  In the actual show, we didn’t really see Emma’s reaction to Killian right away (well, there was definite sexual tension on the beanstalk, but we didn’t get any “oh crap!  He’s hot!” moments from Emma).  I wanted the readers to get the full effect of her first, instinctive thoughts when she saw him for the first time.  I mean, come on, let’s be real.  How could any normal woman see full on Captain Hook Killian walk into a room and NOT start to drool? :)_

_\--Tomorrow is the date of my own Caribbean Shores gala.  The pirate attire has arrived, it fits, and it’s actually pretty comfortable!  (Which is more than I can say for the knee-high, heeled boots I bought for $7 on clearance to complete the outfit!  Seriously, though, why does all cute footwear have to be painful?)  I’m prepared to enjoy myself, but, alas, I’m guessing Killian Jones won’t show up to sweep me off my aching feet!_

_\--Up next: Dinner.  Ruby has arranged matters so that Killian and Emma are seated next to each other—a circumstance that delights Killian and leaves Emma groaning with frustration._


	4. Chapter 4

                Killian stepped across the hall to the ballroom where the night’s festivities were to take place.  He looked around with interest at the various and sundry nautical and pirate-themed decorations.  From elaborate treasure chests filled to the brim with faux treasure to skulls and crossbones to the dining tables which sported centerpieces made of sand dollars and starfish and seashells, to the stage built into a credible imitation of a pirate ship, one saw reminders of the night’s theme everywhere.

            The ballroom was filling up quickly, as seemingly everyone in town arrived.

            “Alright folks!” the man David had introduced as Leroy said into his microphone, “get ready to shiver your timbers!  The silent auction is now officially open for business.  Check out the loot available for you to bid on this year.  But don’t wait too long!  The auction will only be open for the next hour.  If you want to get your hands on this pirate booty, you best get your bids in early.”

            Killian winced at the man’s word choices.  As a boy, he’d been fascinated with the wild buccaneers of the high seas, and had dreamed of being one himself.  He’d spent hours devouring any information about pirates and piracy he could get his hands on—and in not one credible source did it suggest pirates talked about shivering timbers or putting hands on a pirate’s booty.

            Authentic Leroy might not be, but it might not hurt to check out the items up for bid.  He had to find something to occupy himself while David—and especially Emma Swan were still busy checking in gala guests.  The feisty blonde captivated him in a way he never would have expected.  He grinned to himself as he thought of her annoyance with him.  Getting past the walls she’d built around her would be a challenge, and no mistake.

            Good thing he was a patient man, a man of singular focus and intensity when he wished to be.  If, indeed, he decided to romance Emma Swan, he was in it for the long haul.

If he’d sensed that the lovely Miss Swan truly had no interest in him, he would have backed off in an instant, but he knew instinctively that that was not the case.  From the first moment their eyes met in that room across the hall, he’d felt it, the deep connection, strong and shocking as a jolt of electricity.  It was beyond the obvious desire and attraction he’d seen in her eyes before she’d realized he saw her.  It was beyond the flush that colored her cheeks as he’d flirted and teased.  It was the sadness in her voice when she’d admitted to being in love in the past, the way she’d let him see her pain as he looked into her eyes afterward.

            It was impossible to believe they’d only just met.  After mere minutes in her presence, it felt like he’d known her all his life.

            And yet, Killian sensed if he’d spoken such deep, intense thoughts it would spook her.  Aye, a far better tack, at least to begin, would be to continue as he’d begun.  She may scoff and roll her eyes at his innuendo and flirtatiousness, but he could tell it was a game she was not entirely averse to playing.

            Killian meandered in the direction of the silent auction.  Several long, banquet tables were filled to capacity with baskets, gift items and other such treasure, all donated by those in the community.  He, himself had provided a chartered sail on the _Jolly Roger_ , captained by himself, of course.  Along the far wall sat various larger ticket items.

            A passing waiter, dressed in a tricorned hat and eye patch, offered him his choice of wine and hors d'oeuvre.  After snagging a coconut crusted shrimp and a glass of Chardonnay, Killian continued his perusal—one eye on the auction items and the other assiduously watching the door for _her_ arrival.  Aside from a wooden coffee table, hand-crafted by Marco, he found very little that tickled his fancy.

            “See anything interesting?” David said from his left.  Killian startled at the abrupt question.  He hadn’t even heard his mate join him.

            “Not much, I’m afraid,” Killian said with a rueful grin.

            David shrugged with a grin of his own.  “Pretty typical of these things.  
            Killian looked over at David.  “Not that I’m not pleased to see you, mate, but given your…monumental plans for the evening, I’d rather expected you to be glued to your lovely soon-to-be fiancée’s side.”

            “Sh!” David said, raising a finger to his lips, eyes darting furtively around the room.  “It’s supposed to be a surprise; don’t give it away.”

            Killian shrugged.  “So, care to tell your best mate just what these top secret plans are?”

            David grinned.  “If I did that, it would ruin the secret. Let’s just say I’ve given this a great deal of thought, and if I pull it off, Mary Margaret will be swept away with my romanticness.”

            “Well, now I’m intrigued.  When can I expect to learn how your overtures were received?”

            David gave him a cryptic look.  “I suspect you’ll know all too well the moment it happens.  As far as your original question, Mary Margaret went off to the bathroom with Ruby.  What is it about women?  One says she needs to go, they all accompany her.”

            “I’d wager it’s one of the mysteries of the feminine sex that we poor males can never hope to solve.”

            David raised his beer in mock salute and then took a swig.  Killian let his eyes wander lazily back toward the door, and this time he was rewarded.  Swan walked through, flanked by Ruby and Mary Margaret.  She looked toward the former and then laughed at something she said, the joyous sound reaching Killian even across the room.  He couldn’t help his quick intake of breath.

            “I apologize for roping you into the check in,” David said, seeing the direction of his gaze.  “Not sure what got into Mary Margaret—or why she thought the fact that her tiara was coming loose was an emergency she needed my help fixing.”

            Killian turned toward David and grinned.  He waved his hand lazily.  “No apologies necessary mate.  I rather enjoyed myself.”

            David gave him a long, assessing look.  “Yeah, I could see that.  You certainly didn’t seem to mind spending time with Emma Swan.”

            Killian turned back toward the woman in question.  “No, I didn’t at that.”

            David stepped before him and gave him a stern stare.  “Look, Killian,” he said.  “What are your intentions toward Emma?”

            “My intentions?” Killian asked with real confusion.  “I met the woman scarcely an hour ago.  I’ve hardly had time to form any intentions whatsoever.”

            David crossed his arms.  “Remember I know your reputation.  Emma’s not some ‘conquest’; she’s Mary Margaret’s best friend, and I don’t plan to stand back and watch her get hurt.”

            “I have no intention of making another conquest,” Killian said, making a heroic effort to tamp down his annoyance at his friend’s inference.  “Whatever Emma and I become, _if_ we become anything at all, it’s up to her as much as me.”

            David gave him a long look, and then nodded slightly.

            Killian turned back toward Emma with a soft smile.  “I’ll say one thing, Dave.  This evening has led me to come to the conclusion that you were right.  It is most certainly time for me to begin living again.”

+C+S+C+S+C+S+C+S+

 

            “I’m telling you, getting the band has been one headache after another,” Ruby said. “The Dwarfs are the biggest bunch of prima donnas I’ve ever seen.”

            “Yeah?” Emma asked as she walked with her friends into the ballroom.  “Just what did they do this time.”

            Ruby rolled her eyes theatrically.  “First they insisted we provide them with pick axes before they could perform.  Said it’s their good luck charm; they never perform without them.”

            “That’s…weird,” Mary Margaret said from Ruby’s other side.

            “Yeah,” Ruby agreed, “but it got even weirder once they showed up a half an hour ago.  They got one look at the stage, realized they would be performing in a replica of a pirate ship and freaked out.  They demanded life jackets and an iron clad promise—written into their contract, no less—that none of them would be kidnapped by pirates.”

            Emma laughed.  “Ruby where do you _find_ these people?”

            Ruby shrugged.  “They’re a local hit.  Made their big splash with a hit called ‘High Ho’.  Really looked like they were going somewhere.  Turned out they were a one hit wonder; haven’t been able to write a song since.  Now they basically just cover all kinds of music, and I mean _all_ kinds of music.  Everything from Gregorian chant to today’s top 40 hits.”

            “They performed chant?” Mary Margaret asked incredulously.

            “Yeah,” Ruby answered.  “They had a show over at the convent.  Mother Superior wanted to hold an entertainment night; raise the nuns’ morale.  The Dwarfs thought chant seemed appropriate.”

            “And chant managed to be a big morale booster?” Emma asked with a raised eyebrow.

            “I guess,” Ruby said, snagging a beer from a passing waiter.  “Leroy’s the one who found the group.  He said they came highly recommended by Astrid—you know, his nun friend.  If you ask me, he’d be perfectly happy to have her as his nun more-than-friend, if you know what I mean, but of course, there’s the whole nun thing.”

            Leroy himself, stalked up to them, fierce scowl on his face.

            “Speak of the devil,” Emma said under her breath.

            Leroy turned a furious glare her way.  “Careful who you’re calling the devil, sister,” he growled.  “I think you’ve got me mixed up with the ‘evil queen’ over there.”

            Emma followed the direction of his gaze and found Regina walking in arm in arm with Robin Locksley.  Neither one seemed to have gotten the memo on the pirate dress code.  Regina was dressed to the nines in a tight black dress, and Robin, with his bow and arrow looked rather like Robin Hood.

            “What’s Regina done this time, Leroy?” Mary Margaret asked with a sympathetic pat to his shoulder.

            He blew out a furious breath.  “Thinks she owns the place and all of us in it!  Somebody spilled a drink, and her evil highness demanded I clean it up, being the janitor and all.  Well, sister, I ain’t slave labor!  I told her I paid good money for my gala ticket, and I was enjoying myself just as much as anyone else here.  Pointed her toward the broom closet and suggested she mop up the mess herself if she was so damn worried about it.”

            “Bet that didn’t go over well,” Emma said with a grin. 

            “Nope,” Leroy agreed, “told me I was being insubordinate and I could get the mop myself if I knew what was good for me.”

            “Well, I told her, I’d get the mop and shove it up her…well, the conversation devolved from there.  Who knows what might have happened if bow and arrow toting lover boy hadn’t showed up and calmed things down.”

            “Leroy, you really shouldn’t antagonize her,” Mary Margaret scolded.

            “Yeah?” he asked, hands on hips.  “She doesn’t piss me off, I don’t antagonize her.”

            “Ugh,” Ruby said, sighing dramatically.  “You and Miss Mills are _always_ at each other’s throats.  Come on Emma, let’s go check out the auction items.  See what kind of loot we can take home.”

            They wandered through the crowd and Emma absolutely did _not_ look for the handsome pirate who’d worked the sign in table with her.  She _did not_ hope to meet up with him again.  Her heart _did not_ do a little flip flop at the memory of his flirting and the heat in those impossibly blue eyes.  No.  Ruby and Mary Margaret were going to be thoroughly disappointed at the end of the evening when _nothing_ come of their matchmaking scheme.

            “Hey!  Look at this!” Ruby said, dragging Emma toward an item at  a corner table.  “This looks promising!”

            Emma glanced at the item in question.  It was a single sheet of paper picturing a ship with the caption “Looking for some adventure on the high seas?  This certificate entitles you to an afternoon of exploration out on the water with Captain Killian Jones, on the magnificent _Jolly Roger!_   It’ll be a trip to remember!”

            Emma groaned.  “Ruby, really?  You’re pouring it on kind of thick, don’t you think?”

            “I don’t know about that,” Ruby said with a grin.  “All I know is what Mary Margaret told me.  She told me you were practically drooling when you first saw the captain earlier today.  Say all you want about what a jerk he is; me thinks thou dost protest too much.”

            “Yeah, you just keep thinking that,” Emma said dryly.

            “Oh, come on!” Ruby said, “an afternoon on the sea would be fun.  I’d kinda like to get this prize myself.  I’ll fight you for it!”

            Ruby pantomimed pulling a sword from a scabbard and holding it to Emma’s throat.

            “Well, go on ladies,” came the far too smooth voice of Killian Jones from behind her, “don’t be afraid to, you know, really fight it out.”

            He stood right behind her, close enough that Emma could feel the heat from his body.  Her heart stuttered in spite of herself—a circumstance that planted a definite scowl on her face.  She turned on her heel, prepared to give the flirtatious ass a piece of her mind.

            Big mistake.  It was bad enough having him that close to her with her back turned, but facing him?  _That_ was dangerous territory of epic proportions.

            Emma hastily jumped away from him, and he chuckled.  She glared at him.  “Yeah, you wish, buddy.  Like any women would fight to spend an afternoon with you.  Probably isn’t room on your boat anyway as much room as your ego takes.”

            He brought his hand to his heart, and let a look of mock pain cover his face.  “You wound me, love.”

            “Still not your love, Jones,” she said before stalking off.  His delighted chuckle followed her until he was left in her dust.

            “Bidding wraps up in five minutes, folks,” Leroy called.  “The wait staff asks that you make your way toward the tables on the far side of the ballroom.  Dinner will be served in ten minutes.  Check your nametag for your assigned table.”

            Emma peered at her own tag and saw the number “5” below her name.

            “Come on, Emma,” Ruby said, taking Emma’s arm and dragging her forward.  “I scoped out our table when we first got here.  We got good seats; right by the window!”

            There was a suspicious gleam in Ruby’s eyes.  Emma didn’t trust that look.  Didn’t trust it at all.  What did the woman have up her sleeve this time.

            As the tables came into view, Emma knew just exactly what her roommate was up to.  Emma scanned the room until she found table number 5.  Standing there just beside the place setting labeled “Emma Swan” was Killian Jones, delighted grin draping his far too handsome mouth.

            “Well, Swan,” he said, “it appears fortune, or at least the one who created the seating chart, has seen fit to favor us.”

            Emma groaned for probably the five hundredth time that evening.  Had she mentioned that this was going to be a _long_ evening?

 

_Notes:_

_-What even is this chapter?  I hardly know.  I had too late of a night last night with the gala, so I apologize if this is just plain ridiculous!_

_\--The gala was fun—particularly dancing and hanging with other cool people who dressed as pirates—but, unfortunately, no Killian Jones look-a-likes appeared.  My evening wasn’t nearly as exciting as Emma’s and Killian’s will hopefully be, but it was still a good night.  (By the way, if you want that photographic proof of my pirate attire I was promising, check out my Tumblr page (whimsicallyenchantedrose))._

_\--So, I lied at the end of my last notes section.  I didn’t get to the dinner in this chapter.  The silent auction just took up too much space.  I decided I wanted to end just BEFORE dinner started—just as Emma and Killian realize they will be dining companions._

_\--Up next:  The dinner for real, this time!_


	5. Chapter 5

            “Ruby!” Emma muttered furiously under her breath, turning her back on the handsome grinning idiot who was apparently destined to be her dining companion.

            Her roommate gave her a wide-eyed, innocent look.  “What?”

            “You know exactly _what_!” Emma ground out through clenched teeth.  She glanced significantly at the table which bore her nameplate—the table that conspicuously had only _two_ seats.  Looking around, Emma noticed tables of various sizes.  It looked like David and Mary Margaret had snagged another two-seater, but most of her Once Upon a Time friends were seated companionably together at a large table to her right.

            “What?”  Ruby reiterated with a careless shrug.  “We can’t _all_ be seated at the big tables.  Had to fill up the smaller ones too.”

            “Happy to do my part to make your gala a success, love,” Killian put in helpfully from behind her.  Emma turned around and glared, an action which seemed to do nothing but make him grin all the wider.

            “Well at least _some_ of us are reasonable,” Ruby said with a flirtatious wink in Killian’s direction.  Before Emma had a chance to tell her “friend” (and right now she was using that term loosely) just what she thought of her blatant tactics, Ruby turned with a flounce of hair and skimpy costume and headed for Victor, who waited two tables down.

            Emma blew out a noisy breath and slowly turned back toward her table.  There would be plenty of time later to kill her roommates.  For now, she needed to focus on how exactly she was going to survive an evening with “Captain Innuendo” over there. 

She shook her head and reached for her chair, but Killian beat her to it, pulling it out with one fluid motion, and gesturing to it with the ridiculous hook he was _still_ wearing.

            “So _now_ you’re going to be a gentleman?” she asked with a skeptical raise of one eyebrow.

            He leaned down and invaded her space yet again.  “I’m _always_ a gentleman.”

            “Doubt that,” Emma muttered collapsing into the offered chair and allowing him to push it in. 

Killian ambled to his own seat on the far side of the table.  A waiter came by and filled their glasses with ice water.  Emma looked over the table, her eyes flitting over the centerpiece of a tall, lit pillar candle surrounded by an odd array of starfish and rose petals.  So…Ruby was going for what?  Aquatic romantic?

            “So, love, shall I order us some drinks?” Killian asked with that ridiculous grin that she absolutely _did not_ feel from her head clear to her toes.

            “No,” she answered simply.

            “Why not?” he asked.  “Are you afraid you’ll find me even more irresistible after a few libations?”

            He leaned on his one usable hand, gave her a heated look from beneath hooded eyelids, and let his tongue dart out to moisten the corner of his mouth.  Surely that tongue was illegal in all fifty states and probably a few Canadian provinces.

            Emma felt the sudden need to fan herself.  She should make a cutting remark about his level of self-delusion, but she knew she wouldn’t get a word out through a mouth that had suddenly gone completely dry.  Tearing her eyes from her dining companion, she grabbed her water goblet and chugged.

            Killian’s chuckle floated through the air between them.  Hell, no!  This was not happening!  Mr. “I’m God’s Gift to Women” was _not_ going to get the best of her.  “You know what?  I will take that drink, if only to wipe that self-satisfied grin off your face when I _don’t_ throw myself into your arrogant arms.”

            “Your wish is my command, Swan,” he quipped, getting to his feet, sketching a mocking bow and heading toward the cash bar.  Emma let her eyes wander, and made the mistake of meeting Ruby’s eyes.  Her roommate gave her a knowing look and flashed her a thumbs up.

Emma put her face in her hands, and felt the hot blush on her cheeks.  She wasn’t going to survive this dinner.  Her death was imminent; it was undeniable.  She took great satisfaction in thinking of the ways her ghost could come back and make her roommates’ lives a living hell.  If she was going down; she was taking a few so-called friends with her.

            A moment later, Killian returned, slid a shot glass filled with amber liquid before her and took his seat, his own shot in hand.

            “What’s this?” Emma asked, gingerly picking up her “libation.”

            “Rum,” he said simply.  “What else should a pair of pirates use to enhance their dining experience?”

            “You’re really into this whole pirate thing aren’t you?”

            He raised his glass in a toast.  “When in the Caribbean, do as the pirates do, love.”

            “To piracy, then.”  She raised her glass and clinked it with his before tossing it back, savoring the spicy heat.  Whatever else might be said about Ruby tonight, she certainly knew her booze.

            A waiter placed salads before each of them, and then presented a steaming basket of bread.  Killian offered her her choice, before placing a roll on his own plate.  They lapsed into silence, and Emma wondered just what they’d talk about once they’d exhausted his store of suggestive comments. 

            The silence continued as they began to eat.  Emma watched with amusement as Killian attempted to navigate his dinner plate while still holding on to his hook.  He knocked his glass and only narrowly avoided spilling water on himself, and Emma couldn’t hold back her laughter.

            “Having trouble there, sailor?”

            He gave her an exasperated look.  “I’ll manage, love.”

            She laughed again.  “I’m sure you will, but the question is, given the fact that you actually _do_ have two hands… _why_?”

            “Just what would Captain Hook be without his signature appendage?”

            “A far less messy eater?” she teased.

            Killian grinned at her in the way that she already knew meant nothing but trouble.  “Dangerous waters you’re treading in, Swan.  It’s unwise to antagonize the most fearsome pirate on the seven seas and insult his artificial appendages.  This hook is a deadly weapon; it’s caused many a man to quake in his boots.”

            She laughed again.  “Um..Killian?  You are aware that that thing’s plastic, right?  Pretty sure the only thing that needs to fear that weapon is the bug you might squash.  And what’s with the plastic sword at your side?  That a deadly weapon too?”

            He leaned in again and his blue eyes were twin pools of absolute sin.  “Careful there, darling.  When I jab you with my sword, you’ll feel it.”

            Emma snorted.  “Do you _ever_ stop with the blatant innuendo?”

            “Upon occasion,” he said, settling back in his chair and attempting to slice his steak, “but what fun would that be?”

            _What fun indeed_?  Though she’d deny it to her dying breath if asked, she was actually beginning to find Killian an entertaining dining companion.

            “But in the interest of showcasing my conversational versatility,” he said, spearing the bite he’d successfully cut and popping it in his mouth, “what say we return to more conventional topics?”

            “Yeah?  Such as?”

            “You’ve now nearly survived your first year as an elementary school security guard,” he said, “is it all you hoped it would be?”

            What?  Was he going for _actual_ conversation? 

            She shrugged.  “It’s certainly a change from the whole bail bonds person in a big city thing.  Less drama, and a whole lot more cute kids.”

            “I’d wager so,” he chuckled.  “What brought you to our fair burg anyway, Swan?”

            She looked away, the familiar ache welling up as she thought of the day her seemingly happy world turned to ash.  “Let’s just say not every scum of the earth looser in Boston was someone I hunted for a living.”

            He reached out and covered her hand with his.  Looking up, she met his eyes, and the sympathy and understanding she found there shocked her.

            “Did you love him, this ne’er-do-well who wasn’t one of your perpetrators?”

            She shrugged.  “Yeah, I guess I did, but he, like everyone else, wasn’t who he said he was, and he broke my heart.”

            “Keep in mind, love,” he said gently.  “If your heart can be broken, that means it still works.”

            She swallowed hard, looking up at him once more.  These weren’t mere platitudes; she could see that plain enough.  He was speaking from experience.  Someone or something had wounded this man as deeply as Walsh had wounded her.  She gave him a slight nod.

            This was venturing into _way_ too dangerous territory.  Time to dial it back.

            Emma pulled her hand away and tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear.  “Yeah, well, that’s a long enough trip down memory lane for me.  How about you?  What brought you to Storybrooke?”

            He sat back in his chair, physically withdrawing from her.  He dropped his eyes to his half empty plate and the sadness was unmistakable on his handsome features.

            Emma leaned forward and took his hand this time.  “Sorry,” she stammered, suddenly remembering what Mary Margaret said about him having a heart break or something back in England.  “You don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to.

 

+C+S+C+S+C+S+C+S+C+S+

 

            Killian smiled sadly up at the woman before him.  He supposed he’d walked himself right into this one.  It still shocked him, sometimes, how suddenly the grief could creep up.  He turned his hand under hers until he could lace their fingers, needing the comfort he sensed her touch could provide.  Emma inhaled suddenly, but didn’t pull away.

            “It’s alright, Swan,” he said, letting his thumb trace a figure eight into the back of her hand.  “It’s not a tale fit for dinner conversation, but you’ve no need to apologizing for your inquiry.”

            “Well, whatever brought you here,” she said, “I hope you’re finding Storybrooke to your liking.”

            He smiled gently.  Aye, he was beginning to find Storybrooke _quite_ to his liking.  “I’ve no complaints thus far.”

            “Good,” she said, spearing a bite of roasted potato.  “So, owner of the marina, huh?  How’d you get into that line of work?”

            Killian smiled and took a bite of his roll.  This was a far more pleasant topic.  “My brother told me the sea has been in my blood from infancy.  Some of my fondest memories were had out on the water.  I’ll never forget the first time he took me out on his little boat.  It was like the whole world had suddenly opened up for me; like I could fly.”

            Emma smiled back at him.  “Sounds amazing.”

            “Aye,” he said with a nod.  “So it was as though the heavens smiled down on me when I discovered the Storybrooke marina was in need of a new owner.”

            A waiter cleared their finished plates and assured them that their dessert would be served momentarily.

            “Would sir or madam like a hot beverage with dessert tonight?” he asked.

            “Nothing for me,” he answered, “you, love?”

            To his pleasure, Emma didn’t growl at him over the endearment.  She ordered hot cocoa with cinnamon, and then the waiter was on his way.

            “So, what does your brother think of your new job in your new country?” she asked.  “You going to invite him over to witness your success?”

            There was the pain again.  It was years since he’d lost Liam, but the heartbreak of losing one’s last remaining family never truly faded.

            “I’ll never know what he would have thought, nor have I the ability to invite him for a holiday,” he said, at long last.  “My brother passed on several years ago.”

            “Sorry,” Emma winced.  “I just seem to be stepping in it everywhere I turn tonight!”

            “It was a long time ago,” he said after a moment.  “It was a difficult time in my life, but I lived through it.  You don’t have to worry about me, Swan.  If there’s one thing I excel at, it’s surviving.”

“So it would seem,” she said, nodding in thanks as the server placed a wedge of key lime pie before her.  “But, anyway, sorry for touching on all your sensitive subjects.”

He grinned, more than ready to put the heavy topics to rest for the moment.  “Hm,” he purred.  “I’m sure I can think of a few ways you can make it up to me.  Perhaps we’d best put those luscious lips of yours to better use.  And who knows?  That might lead to the touching of other…ahem…sensitive areas”

            Emma shoved him gently.  “You wish!”

            He grabbed her hand before she could pull it back and placed a quick kiss against her palm, reveling in the quick indrawn breath she couldn’t quite conceal.  “Oh darling, you have no idea just how much.”

 

_Notes:_

_\--A bit of a short chapter here, but I’m sure I’ll be far more…loquacious…in the next chapter when the shenanigans really begin._

_\--My main goals with this chapter were twofold.  First of all, I love the romantic, understanding, desperately in love Killian we’re currently getting in the show, but I must admit that I miss Captain Innuendo from time to time.  Maybe he’ll make an appearance the next time there’s a lull in the Storybrooke craziness and he and Emma have a chance to enjoy a good moment.  At any rate, as my story happens at the very beginning of their relationship, I figured I needed a good helping of my favorite oh-so-flirtatious pirate!_

_\--Secondly, I wanted to move the relationship forward.  Killian’s flirting and Emma’s avoidance and walls are entertaining, but if they’re going to have a real relationship, it needs to go far beyond that.  I wanted Emma to start opening up to Killian (and vice versa) and start to realize that there’s a lot more to this ridiculously hot man than the constant lines he’s throwing out there._

_\--In case you were wondering, yes.  You will eventually find out exactly what happened with both Walsh and Milah, but I can’t have them spilling all their secrets as early as chapter five, can I? :)  Btw, we’re probably a little less than half way through this story now, give or take._

_\--Up next:  With dinner over, Ruby introduces her somewhat unorthodox plans for the night’s entertainment.  Emma should definitely be afraid.  Just as a teaser, it involves a Ruby-approved version of one of my absolute favorite Captain Swan scenes._


	6. Chapter 6

            “Sorry to interrupt, but can I steal Emma away for a moment?”

            Emma looked up to see Mary Margaret standing before their table, and was surprised at the twinge of disappointment her best friend’s request gave her.  Believe it or not, she was actually enjoying her evening with Killian.  _Really_ enjoying it.

            “I shall be desolated if you do,” came the mocking reply from the “pirate” sitting across from her. 

            Emma grinned and got to her feet.  “Something tells me you’ll survive.”

            “Perhaps,” he answered leaning back lazily in his chair, “but it’s sure to be a close thing.”

            Mary Margaret laughed and threaded her arm through Emma’s.  “You can go commiserate with David while we’re gone.”

            “I might at that, love,” he said with careless wave.

            Mary Margaret pulled Emma from the ballroom and into the restroom.  Digging around in her beaded handbag, she pulled out a tube of rose-colored lipstick, applied it generously, and then fluffed her short, dark hair, which she’d curled for the occasion.

            “So…” Emma asked when it appeared no explanation was forthcoming.  “What’s up?”

            Mary Margaret gave her a knowing grin.  “Just wondering how things are going.  You and Killian seem to be hitting it off.”

            Emma crossed her arms and scowled.  Seriously?  Mary Margaret was checking on the status of her matchmaking operation? 

            Finally Emma shrugged.  “I’ve had worse evenings.”

            “That’s all you can say? ‘I’ve had worse evenings?’  Come on Emma!  You can do better than that!”

            Emma shrugged.  “Not much more to say.  How’s _your_ evening going?”

            Emma braced herself for a syrupy-sweet monolog about how perfect and wonderful David was.  It was kind of nauseating really, but it was a small price to pay if it got her roommate off her back.

            Mary Margaret glanced aside and began playing with the strap of her bag.  “I don’t know,” she said finally.  “David’s being…weird.”

            Emma narrowed her eyes.  “Weird how, exactly?”

            Mary Margaret shrugged helplessly.  “I don’t know.  Kind of distant.  Nervous, almost.  You don’t think he’s about to break up with me or something, do you?”

            Images flooded Emma’s mind.  A man she thought was perfect suddenly turning violent.  Was it possible the same could happen to Mary Margaret?  Emma closed her eyes and thought about David Nolan.  That man was as sincere and true as they come….not to mention as in love as they come.

            Finally Emma shook her head decidedly.  “Not a chance,” she said firmly.  “Mary Margaret, that man loves you so much it’s sickening.  No way he’s about to break up.”

            Mary Margaret looked over at her, her eyes still troubled.  “I guess, but this is not like him.  Did he seem different to you when you two were working check in?”

            Emma thought back, but the only thing that truly stood out in her mind about her check in experience was a certain pirate captain with ridiculously blue eyes and a grin that was trouble with a capital T.  “No,” she said finally.  “I didn’t notice anything, but we were pretty busy.”

            Mary Margaret visibly pulled herself together.  “Well, I’ll figure it out later.  In the meantime, you can’t side track me that easily. How was your dinner with Killian.  I want details.”

            Emma rolled her eyes.  “Well, we started with salad, and then the main course was steak with these little roasted potato things.  Oh, and there were some dinner rolls that were pretty good, and then…”

            Mary Margaret smacked her arm.  “Those aren’t the details I was looking for and you know it.  What do you think of _Killian_.”

            She should have known her best friend wouldn’t give it up.  Emma sighed.  “Fine!  He’s not too bad, okay?  Maybe he’s not the self-obsessed pretty boy I thought he was when we first met, and maybe he’s not a total letch, despite all his ridiculous innuendos.”

            Mary Margaret smiled broadly and then clapped her hands in delight.  “You _like_ him!”

            Emma’s heart fluttered and she felt the traitorous heat creep into her cheeks.  She was _not_ having this conversation!  What were they, high-schoolers at the prom talking about their crushes?  Not that she had a crush on Killian.  Not that she even liked him.  I mean, she tolerated him, but…

            “No,” Emma said, and inwardly cursed the fact that she sounded far from convinced.  “Look, Mary Margaret, I know you want some big love connection to happen, but…just don’t get your hopes up.  I mean, he’s entertaining, but that’s all there is.  This isn’t the start of some big epic romance; this is just two strangers tolerating each other and getting through a social event the best they can.”

            “Uh-huh,” Mary Margaret said with a knowing grin.  “I saw the smiling and laughing and flirting going on over there.  Seems to me I even saw a little hand holding.  Clearly the acts of a couple of people who were just ‘tolerating’ each other for the evening.”

            Emma closed her eyes and groaned.  Damn the fact that she had observant roommates!  And Mary Margaret was the tame one.  All she’d do was gently pry.  Emma didn’t even want to think about what Ruby’s reaction would be to all of this.

            “Fine, I don’t _dislike_ him,” Emma admitted.  “He’s relatively good company.  Happy now?”

            Mary Margaret laughed, and then impulsively hugged her.  “Ecstatic.”

            Emma hugged her friend back.  “Look,” she said uncomfortably, “I know you just want me to be happy, and everything, and I appreciate what you’re trying to do, it’s just…well, it’s a lot of pressure.  I don’t do ‘happily ever after’.  Don’t think love’s in the cards for me, so don’t start, you know, planning my wedding or something.”

            Mary Margaret gave her a sympathetic smile.  “Don’t worry Emma.  No pressure.  Just enjoy yourself tonight.  Whatever happens happens; whatever doesn’t, doesn’t.”

            “Okay, so now that we got that cleared up,” Emma said, “is that all that was on your mind?”

            “Well, actually there was one more thing,” Mary Margaret said, digging once again in her purse.  After a moment, she pulled out a stack of folded papers and handed them to Emma.

            “I thought it’d probably be best to warn you.”

            Emma’s eyes narrowed.  “Warn me about what?”

            “Ruby’s plans for the evening’s entertainment.”

            “Do I really want to know?”

            Mary Margaret gave her a rueful look.  “Trust me.  You’ll want to know about this ahead of time.  Forewarned is forearmed as they say.”

            A prickle of alarm came over Emma.  “Just what does she have planned?”

            “Well…” Mary Margaret said, drawing out the single syllable.  “Ruby decided it would be fun to have a dinner theatre of sorts.  Only, she decided _we’ll_ be the actors.  She’s written a little pirate-themed vignette for each of us.  Well, some of us, at least.  Regina put her foot down; flat out refused to act.  And then, David convinced Ruby to write us more of a Snow White and Prince Charming story, but most people get a pirate scene.”

            Emma groaned.  “Let me guess.  My scene partner is a certain dark haired, British marina owner?”

            “Yep, and that’s your script,” Mary Margaret said, pointing one perfectly manicured nail toward the papers she’d handed Emma.

            Feeling more than a little apprehensive, Emma unfolded the sheets she was holding and began reading.  Something about a wench needing to get a compass back from a pirate…a meeting at a pub…the wench needing to keep him “occupied” while her friend tries to steal the compass…rum…flirtation…pirate taking her back to his ship…passionate kissing (!!!)....seduction.  And then there was this little stage direction gem:  “They start ripping each other’s clothes off, and the curtain closes.  Implied that they bang off stage until neither can see straight.  Curtain opens to show the pirate passed out in post-coital bliss, and the wench escaping with the compass.”

            “ _What the hell_ IS _this_?!!”  Emma exploded.  “What is she _thinking_?  If Ruby thinks I’d ever go along with something like this, she’s lost her freaking mind!”

            “Yeah,” Mary Margaret said, with a sympathetic look.  “This is why I thought you would want some warning.  Believe it or not, this is pretty tame, considering what her first drafts contained.”

            “This is _tame_?” Emma thundered.  “What did she want at first?  Full on hard core pornography?”

            Mary Margaret grimaced.  “Pretty much.”

            “Know a good defense attorney?”  Emma asked.

            Mary Margaret gave her a puzzled look.  “Um…why?”

            “Because I’m going to need a good lawyer after I kill Ruby.”

            “Now Emma,” Mary Margaret said, putting a gentling hand on her arm, “I know she might be a little…heavy handed…but Ruby means well, too.  She wants you to be happy; she just goes about it a little…well, she’s kind of…”

            “Crazy as hell?”  Emma asked, with a lift of one eyebrow.

            “That’s not exactly the phrase I was looking for, but…”

            “Mary Margaret,” Emma said in disbelief, “you don’t actually expect me to perform this do you?”

            “Well, no,” Mary Margaret said, “I mean not if you don’t want to, but…just, maybe try to find a way to get around it without making a huge scene?  Like I said, Ruby’s just trying to help you.”

            “Hate to see what she’d do if she was trying to hurt me,” Emma muttered.

 

+C+S+C+S+C+S+C+S+C+S+

 

            “Oh woe is me!” Ruby lamented, turning away and placing a dramatic hand against her brow.  “What am I to do?  How can I escape?  Who will save me from this vicious pirate?”

            Leroy advanced on her, a rather bored look on his face.  “Give it up, sister.  You’re coming with me!”

            “Leroy!” Ruby hissed in a carrying stage whisper.  “Say your lines the way they’re written!  And show a little emotion.”

            Leroy rolled his eyes and tried again.  “Arghhhh!  Stop fighting me, wench! Hie thee to my ship!  Ruby, who _says_ things like that?”

            “Leroy!” she whisper shouted.

            “Riveting drama, this, aye?” Killian asked, leaning over to whisper to Emma.

            “Yeah,” She answered, turning toward him with a grin.  “Give’s Shakespeare a run for his money.”

            Killian chuckled, sitting back to watch the “entertainment” being performed on the pirate ship stage.

            “No!” Ruby wailed.  “Please, don’t hurt me!  Oh who will save me?”

            “She ever think about, you know, fighting back and saving _herself_?” Emma asked, leaning toward him this time.  Her luscious hair fell over his arm with the motion, and it was only with extreme difficulty that Killian kept himself from leaning over and breathing deeply of its lavender scent.

            “Come now, Swan,” he said.  “Why would she do such a thing when she could give a long, dramatic soliloquy about how much she dislikes the idea of being kidnapped by a bad tempered buccaneer?”

            Emma laughed.  “How many pirates you know who’ll be defeated by a dramatic soliloquy?”

            “That would depend on the one delivering the soliloquy I would wager,” he said leaning over and casually draping his arm over the back of her chair.  “Many a man’s been undone by the power of lovely lass.”

            She rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her grin. 

Nor did she pull away from the hand he was now using to draw lazy circles against the exposed skin of her shoulder. 

They lapsed into silence as they watched the dashing hero, Victor Whale, leap to the fair maiden’s defense.  After a sword battle—fierce on Whale’s side and rather tepid on Leroy’s—the dashing hero delivered the fatal blow to the lascivious pirate, took his fainting damsel into his arms and kissed her senseless.

Leroy opened one eye, and then heaved a dramatic sigh.  “Ugh, get a room!”

            Ruby pulled her mouth free of Whale’s with a pop and shot an outraged look at the janitor-turned-pirate.  “Leroy!  You’re supposed to be dead!  Dead people don’t talk….or care how much people around them are making out!”

            And with that sage nugget of wisdom, the theatre curtain closed on the hair-raising drama.

            Emma clapped politely…while vociferously rolling her eyes.

            “I’d wager we can deliver a significantly grander theatrical performance when our turn comes, aye, love?”

            She turned toward him, and suddenly he realized they’d moved close enough that he could pick out every adorable freckle on her nose, even in the uncertain “theatre” lighting.  Of their own accord, his eyes dropped to her lips, and it occurred to him that it would take barely a movement to close the distance between them and take her mouth.

            Emma must have sensed the wild, passionate direction his thoughts were taking.  With an indrawn breath, she leaned away. 

            “Yeah, well,” she said, and Killian felt an inordinate pleasure at the breathiness in her voice, “wouldn’t take much to upstage that fiasco.”

            She levelled him with a stern glare.  “Just remember what we talked about!  You follow my lead.”

            “Pirate’s honor, Swan,” he said raising his hands before him.

            Her eyebrow shot up.  “Not sure that’s saying much.”

            Half an hour before, Emma had returned from her tete-a-tete with Mary Margaret angry enough that Killian could have sworn he saw steam billowing from her ears.  He jumped up to get her chair for her, an action that earned him nothing but a glare.

            “Something the matter Swan?”

            Emma slammed several sheets of paper before him.  “Yeah, I’d say something’s the matter.  Just _look_ at this!”

            Killian perused the sheets before him.  It appeared to be some sort of a script.  A rather _spicy_ script, at that.

            “Aye,” he said, setting the offending text before Emma and shrugging his shoulders.  “Hardly award winning literature, but I fail to see why it would draw your ire with such intensity.”

            “I’ll tell you why,” she said, turning flashing eyes his way.  “Ruby’s ‘entertainment’ for the night is to put on a series of short plays—this crap being one of them.”

            “Very well.  It won’t be riveting drama, but I’ve yet to hear a reason it should elicit such a strong reaction in you.”  Killian reached for his coffee cup and took a swig.

            “ _We’re_ supposed to be the stars of the show!” she said through gritted teeth.

            He choked, narrowly avoiding spewing coffee across the table.  “We?  Us?”

            Emma nodded grimly.  “That’s right.  We.  Us.”

            Unbidden, visions of the events of the scene swam through his head.  Passion-tinted visions of Emma kissing him, seducing him….

            “Are you even paying attention?” Emma hissed.

            Killian came back to earth with a crash.  “Of course, Swan,” he answered with a lazy grin.  “It would seem your friend is determined to see us portray some rather explicit material.”

            “And you’re alright with that?!”

            He leaned in once again, knowing he was pushing the lass’s buttons.  He wondered idly how far he could go before she pushed back.  As she was utterly glorious when angry, he would try his luck. 

“Anything to make the gala a success, Swan.”  He punctuated his sentence with another slow wink.

            She glared at him.  “Not going to happen Jones.”

            Killian grinned again.  “I gathered as much from the violence of your outrage.  What do you propose we do to combat your friend’s lascivious vision for us?  Shall we tell her off?”

            She was silent for a moment, clearly thinking.  Finally a devious look came into her eyes.  “No,” she said.  “I have a better plan.”

            “Aye?” he asked, taking another sip,  “and just what might that plan be, Swan?”

            “We beat her at her own game,” she said.  “We don’t protest; that’s what she’s expecting.  No.  Instead, we perform her little drama.”

            Killian choked again and then very decidedly set his coffee cup back upon the table.

            “We’re going to _go along_ with her?”

            “Yeah,” she said with a decisive nod, “but we take the plot into our own hands.”

            “Just what are you proposing, Swan?”

            “Just follow my lead, Jones.  I have a plan that I can guarantee to give us the upper hand once more!  Ruby will think twice before messing with me again!”       

The curtain opened, and Killian was brought back to the present once again.

            “Thanks everyone!” Ruby gushed, taking a bow before the crowd.  “And now we take a slight break from the pirate theme for a little trip to the Enchanted Forest.  Please welcome David Nolan and Mary Margaret Blanchard as Snow White and Prince Charming!”

            Killian applauded enthusiastically as his friend hopped onto the stage and assisted his lady to do the same.  He felt Emma’s eyes on him, and turned to meet her curious gaze.

            “What?” he asked.

            “That was a pretty enthusiastic response for the start of one of Ruby’s plays,” she observed.  “What’s the deal?

            Killian donned his most innocent look. “No ‘deal’, love.  Merely a man cheering on his mate in his thespian endeavors.”

            She narrowed her eyes and gave him a long, searching look.  “I’m going to let you in on a little secret.  I’m pretty good at telling when someone’s lying to me, and you, Killian Jones, are most definitely lying to me.  There’s something going on.  What is it?”

            “Swan, the scene is about to begin,” he whispered, tugging playfully at a blonde curl, “do be quiet.  All this talking is quite rude.”

            “Quite…” she spluttered, “Killian, you..”

            Several people from a nearby table shushed her, and she flounced back into her chair, muttering under her breath.  Just as well Killian couldn’t make out the words she was saying.  He’d wager he was coming out the worst in her little monolog.

            Truth be told, Swan was right in her suspicions.  When the ladies had retired to the restroom, Killian had ambled over to David’s table.  The man had made him privy to some very definitive plans he had for the end of his portion of the evening’s entertainment.  As Dave had sworn him to secrecy, he couldn’t very well inform Emma, but momentous deeds were definitely afoot.

            “Well,” Emma whispered, turning exasperated eyes in his direction, “Are you going to watch your ‘mate’ in his acting debut, or are you going to sit there and stare at me all night?”

            He reached for her hand, brought it to his lips, and kissed it tenderly, all while keeping his eyes resolutely fixed on her own.  “Though it will be a burden to turn from your radiant beauty, it would seem ‘Snow White’ and ‘Prince Charming’ deserve my attention now.”

            She laughed and shook her head.  “You really never stop, do you?”  
            “When it comes to you, Swan?  Never.”

            The scene opened on what looked to be a forest.  Snow White lay still and silent in a glass coffin.   The Dwarfs surrounded her, keeping a solemn but silent vigil.

            Suddenly Charming ran up in a tearing hurry, his red cloak billowing behind him.

            Doc looked at him sorrowfully.  “You’re too late.”

            “No!  No!” Charming moaned.  “At least let me say goodbye.”

            The dwarfs nodded, and then pulled back the coffin lid.  Charming leaned down and kissed his beloved.  There was a whooshing sound, and suddenly Snow White opened her eyes and sat up.

            “You found me!” she breathed, reaching up to cup his face.

            “Did you ever doubt I would?”

            Charming helped his lover from her coffin and the two kissed again, tears running down their faces.  Killian was suitably impressed.  His mate wasn’t half bad on the stage.

            David and Mary Margaret, flanked by the seven dwarfs, stepped to the front of the stage and took a bow.  The curtain began to close, but suddenly David stepped forward and raised a hand.

            “Hey folks,” He said, “I know there’s more of the show to go, but I hope you’ll let me have just a couple of minutes.  I’m sure you noticed Mary Margaret and I aren’t exactly dressed like the rest of you.”

            He turned toward Mary Margaret.  “And I know you were under the impression that we weren’t forced into pirate attire because of that day you talked to Regina, but the truth is, I went to her first.”

            “Okay,” Mary Margaret said slowly.

            “You see, Mary Margaret, I wanted to make this day special for you.  I love you with all of my heart, and I no longer even want to think about a day when you aren’t in my life.”

            David went down on one knee and pulled a ring out of a velvet bag in his pocket.

            “Is he about to…” Emma asked, gripping Killian’s hand and leaning over to whisper in his ear.

            Killian gave her hand a squeeze in response.  “Aye, love.  That he is.”

            Holding up the silver ring with the green stone, David continued.  “It was my mother’s ring, and now I never want it off your finger.  Will you marry me?”

            Mary Margaret surged to her feet and took David’s face in her hands.  “What do you think.”

            He smiled and then closed the distance between them, kissing her exuberantly and then twirling her around.

            “Well,” Leroy shouted, “we’re waiting.  What _do_ you think?”

            David laughed and turned back toward the crowd, one arm still firmly around Mary Margaret.  “I think that was a yes.”

            Mary Margaret took the ring and slipped it onto her finger.  “That was most definitely a yes.”

 

_Notes:_

_\--Ruby strikes again!  Clearly, she’s never heard of the concept of subtlety.  Originally, this chapter was going to contain Emma and Killian’s performance as well, but in the interest of keeping this chapter from getting ridiculously long, I decided to move that to the next chapter.  Besides, I figured that Snowing needed their moment to shine after the proposal!_

_\--As I’m sure you can tell, the scene Emma and Killian are supposed to perform is Ruby’s…not quite fit for a family show…version of the Emma and past!Hook scene from 3x21.  I really liked that scene, and wanted to showcase it in this story.  Of course, given the logical limitations of this story where time travel doesn’t exist, I can’t incorporate jealous!Killian punching himself, but you can only do what you can do!_

_\--Up next:  Emma and Killian perform their part of the entertainment.  Just how does Emma plan to modify the script Ruby gave them…and will Killian go along with her modifications?  Also, after the entertainment part of the evening wraps up, it’s time for the dance.  Things go well—until an uninvited and decidedly unwanted guest shows up to crash the party…_


	7. Chapter 7

            The applause for David and Mary Margaret’s impromptu encore performance was deafening.  Emma smiled at the utterly incandescent look on her best friend’s face.  David had clearly taken her completely by surprise, and she looked like she might combust on the spot from the violence of her delight.

            “You knew about this, didn’t you?” Emma asked, turning soft eyes to her dining companion.  “You knew all along this is what David was planning.”

            He smiled back at her and couldn’t stop himself from giving her cheek a quick caress.  “Aye, I knew he meant to propose, but he kept the details rather quiet until a few moments ago.”

            “I didn’t think he’d ever get up the nerve,” Emma said with an amazed shake of her head.  And no, her face where he’d caressed her didn’t tingle in a way that shot clear to her very heart.  “You did this, didn’t you?  You talked him into finally taking that next step.”

            He shook his head, looking at her with a kind of tenderness that made her feel utterly cherished.  “I’m afraid I can’t take credit for this, Swan.    It was clear to me within five minutes of seeing my mate with your lovely roommate that they were soul mates, but I was far too busy dealing with my own…heartbreak…” he stumbled slightly over the word, “to offer any advice on David’s behalf.”

            Emma found herself wondering yet again what horrors Killian’s past held.  She sensed this was more than just a case of unrequited love…or a relationship gone sour.  His voice, the look in his eyes when he referred to it was nothing short of devastated.  She was suddenly seized with the desire to take away the pain, somehow. 

            Clearly it was either her damn empathy…or the strength of Killian’s ‘libations’…that caused what happened next.

            Emma squeezed Killian’s hand—the hand that she had unconsciously been holding throughout Snow and Charming’s entire performance.  She leaned forward and placed a single kiss, soft as a whisper along his chiseled jaw.  Killian’s eyes widened, and he slowly brought his hand up to reverently touch the place her lips had rested.

            His eyes suddenly took on a heated look and he leaned forward, his intent clear.  Without her permission, her head tilted up, forward, ready to meet him.  He moved achingly slow, waiting every moment for her to back away…and she should.  She totally should, but like the inexorable move of a moth to the flame, she could do nothing but fall into him.

            She felt his rum-scented breath on her face, her eyes fluttered closed and…

            “Alright folks!  Time for our last performance of the night,” Ruby’s ridiculously perky voice blared from the mic she was holding at the front of the stage.

            The spell was broken.  Emma jerked back, embarrassment tinting her cheeks crimson.  What the _hell_ had she almost done?!

            Killian cleared his throat uncomfortably.  “Um, I guess that’s our cue, Swan.  Time to showcase our stellar acting skills.”

            “Right,” she said brusquely, getting to her feet.  “Just remember what we talked about.  Follow my lead.”

            He sketched a mocking bow, his hands…well, hand and hook…spread before him.  “As you wish, milady.”

            She gave him a skeptical look.  “Just remember, no funny business.  I’m not taking my eyes off you for a second.”

            He leaned in impossibly close.  Seriously, did this man have a vendetta against personal space? “I would _despair_ if you did.”

            “Everyone give a warm welcome to Emma Swan and Killian Jones as they perform ‘Pirate Booty’.”

            Emma rolled her eyes as she made her way to the stage.  Her copy of the script was untitled, but of _course_ Ruby would go with a title like that!

            The scene opened in what appeared to be a tavern.  Ruby had evidently gone all out with decorations—providing tables, wooden chairs, copious amounts of alcohol and various other accoutrements.  Emma found herself effortlessly slipping into character as she sat at a table several tables away from where “Captain Hook” was playing a game of dice with various “extras” Ruby had apparently taken from the crowd.

            “If we don’t get that compass back from the captain, we’ll never get home,” Emma muttered to the woman sitting across from her—the music teacher, known to students and staff alike simply as “Miss Jennifer”.

            Jennifer sighed.  “Yeah, but _how_?  Doubt asking nicely would work.”

            “Well, we’ve got to do something!” Emma said.  “I for one do _not_ intend to leave my son for any longer than I have to.

            There was a gasp from across the table.  “I’ve got it!” Jennifer said, tossing her dark hair over her shoulder.  “We steal it back from him!”

            Emma rolled her eyes.  “Stealing from a pirate captain?  That sounds like a brilliant plan.”

            “Hear me out,” Jennifer said, “You go keep him occupied; I think you and I _both_ know you’re his type.  In the meantime, I search his ship, find the compass, and we’re on our way.”

            “Sounds risky.”

            “What”, Jennifer scoffed, “afraid you can’t handle Captain Sexy Pants over there?”

            Emma scoffed.  “Give me five minutes.  He’ll be putty in my hands.”

            The plan decided upon, the two women put it into practice.  Jennifer slipped noiselessly off stage, while Emma fluffed her hair, loosened her corset and sauntered to the far table.  She leaned down, insuring the captain had quite the view.

            “What are you boys playing?”

            The look he gave her…It was like he was a starving man and she was a succulent meal.  And then there was that damn flick of the tongue again!  Emma’s nerves started screaming at her.  What was she thinking, going along with this scene?  She was playing with fire!

            Wise or not, the show must go on.  Emma let Hook lead her off to a far corner with nothing but a bottle of rum as their companion.  Hook poured her a shot, and she tossed it back, and then coughed.  Ruby had provided them with _real_ rum!  As much drinking as she’d written into this scene, Emma was half convinced her “friend” was aiming to get the two of them legitimately drunk—and possibly make them more amenable to…ahem…more enjoyable activities.

            After a bit of preliminary banter, the real meat of the scene began.

            “I’ve told you all my secrets, yet you haven’t even told me your name yet,” Hook complained, moving closer.  “We’re just two ships passing in the night, then?”

            She looked at him from beneath hooded lids.  She saw Killian swallow hard, and felt an inordinate pleasure at the fact that he apparently had quite the difficulty taking what he liked to dish out.  “Passing closely I hope.”

            “Speaking of ships,” he said, regaining his composure, and his ridiculous flirtatiousness, “what do you say I show you mine?”

            He got up, but she reached down, set her hand on his thigh—his lean, taut, muscular thigh—she was in _so_ much trouble here—and pushed him back into his seat.  Closing her eyes for a second, Emma struggled to remember this wasn’t Emma Swan and Killian Jones.  This was the bar wench and Captain Hook.  She had to play her part; she had to lure Ruby into her trap before she sprung it.

            Besides, she could handle a little flirting from a handsome man.  It meant nothing, nothing at all.  This wouldn’t affect her!

            Then she made the mistake of looking at Killian’s face.  The look in his eyes shouldn’t be allowed; it made her throat go dry and her knees go weak.  What was _wrong_ with her?  She took a deep breath, and then continued with her lines.  “How about we have a few drinks first?”

            He took the shot glass from her and downed it, never letting his eyes leave hers, and then the curtain closed.

            Several men swarmed the stage, changing the set, moving props, preparing for Act II.  Emma got to her feet and paced, running a distracted hand through her hair.  When she turned back, her idiot scene partner was standing in place, grinning at her in the way that made her want to slug him.

            “What’s the matter, Swan?  Have the libations finally made me irresistible?”

            She snorted.  “Just…play your part.  Let’s just get through this damned play, and then I have a roommate to kill.”

            “Oh, I don’t know, Swan,” he said sashaying forward until he was nearly flush against her.  “I’m rather enjoying this play.  Seeing you _so_ eager to seduce me is rather pleasant.”

            She laughed in spite of herself.  “You do realize my character’s trying to play you, right?  She’s not _really_ trying to seduce Captain Hook.”

            He grinned and then shrugged.  “The destination matters not; what I care about is the very enjoyable journey there.  Prepare yourself darling; our big love scene is coming up next.”

            The look he gave her sent the heat rushing to her face, and if she was totally honest, points south.  For half a second she considered throwing all caution to the wind and performing the scene exactly as written.

            The last stage hand exited stage left and Leroy, who had appointed himself the “director” whispered to them to get into position.  Reason returned.  No; she’d continue with the plan she’d started.  It was time someone sent Ruby a clear message about meddling in other people’s affairs, and she was just the one to do it.

            “And…action!” Leroy whispered, and the curtain opened once again.

            This time Emma was in the cabin of a ship.  She’d left Hook to deal with his first mate on deck while she made a quick search of the cabin, hoping to find that her associate had found what she was looking for.

            After rummaging through a few drawers, she spotted it—the famed golden compass.  The item said to take its bearer anywhere she might desire.  Scooping the prize up, she stuffed it in her bodice and made her way to the ladder, hoping to escape before her amorous companion came to join her for the “nightcap” he’d promised.

            It was a stellar acting performance, if she did say so herself.  Of course the effect was rather marred by the fact that Leroy was giving a play-by-play.

            Having secured what she came for, Emma rushed to the ladder.  She’d no more than put one booted foot on the bottom rung when Captain Hook made his way down.

            “Where might you be going?” he leered, “I do hope you’re not having second thoughts?”

            She smiled, grabbing ahold of the lapels of his jacket, pulling him closer.  “No, I just got tired of waiting.”

            And then, according to Ruby, she was supposed to kiss him senseless.  Yeah, that _so_ wouldn’t be happening.  If she ever did decide to kiss Killian senseless…which she had no intention of doing, regardless of what may or may not have _almost_ happened just before Ruby’s stupid play—it would be somewhere private, not on a stage in front of half of Storybrooke.

            Killian leaned in, and she saw his breathing hitch as he waited for her to make the next move.  Placing both hands on his face, she covered his lips with her thumbs, turned her back on the audience, and did a credible simulation of a serious make out session.

            Emma felt Killian grin beneath her thumbs, and then something purely wicked entered his eyes.  Opening his mouth ever so slightly, he nipped at the thumbs she was using as a barrier.  Emma gasped, and his grin grew.  With a small flick of his tongue, he bathed the skin he’d bitten.  He was not playing fair; not fair at all!

            Time to wrap this thing up before he made her forget her own name.

            She pulled back, ordered her heart to stop racing, and painted a flirtatious look on her face.

            “My apologies,” he drawled as she giggled up at him.  “A woman as beautiful as you deserves my full and prompt attention.”

            Killian leaned in again, but she moved aside positioning them ever closer to the bed.

            He laughed rather lecherously.  “That’s right darling.  Fate has declared that you’re to be mine.  Time to give up and accept your fate.”

            He leaned in, once again, but this time she was ready.  Curling her hand into a fist, she drew it back, and shot it forward with the weight of her entire body.  Killian’s eyes widened as he saw what she was about to do.  With impeccable timing, he moved aside a fraction of a second before her punch would have landed.  She’d positioned them in such a way that it looked for all the world like the punch hit its mark.

            Killian staggered back, took a couple of steps, placed his hand over his heart, and then fell spread eagle across his bed.  Emma rolled her eyes.  _Drama queen!_

            “Sorry Captain,” she said, looking down at his prone form before making eye contact with Ruby in the audience, “but the only one who determines my fate is me.”

 

+C+S+C+S+C+S+C+S+C+S+

 

            Emma marched off the stage and made a bee-line to the cash bar. She was in need of some serious liquid fortification.  She was furious.  At Ruby, yes, but even more so at herself.  Why the hell had she let Killian get under her skin the way he had?  There had been a moment there where it had taken every bit of her willpower to stop herself from pulling back her thumbs and making that simulation real.

            “Emma, wait!”  Ruby called, catching up with her, and halting her with a hand to her arm.  “Wait!  Can we talk?”

            Emma turned around slowly, willing her exasperation to fade.  “About what?  About how you just don’t know when to stop?  About the way you’re throwing Killian at me like he’s a piece of meat and you want me to have dinner?  About that “play” you wrote for us?”

            Ruby raised her hands.  “I’m sorry, Emma!  I really am!”

            “What were you thinking?” Emma growled.  “We’ve been roommates for a year; we’ve become friends; we’ve talked about everything under the sun.  You _know_ me.  What in all our history together made you think I’d go along with a ‘performance’ like that?”

            “I know,” Ruby wailed.  “It was stupid.  I just got…I don’t know…carried away.  It’s just…”

            “It’s just _what_?” Emma asked, arms folded across her chest.

            “I hate seeing you so sad,” Ruby said finally, and Emma saw sincerity in her face.  “Ever since you moved here, I just wanted to find you your happy ending.  And Emma, I saw the way you and Killian were when you were together tonight!  He made you smile in a way you haven’t smiled all year.”

            Emma thawed ever so slightly.  Mary Margaret was right.  Ruby may have a terrible way of going about things, but she did meddle out of love.  “Still doesn’t give you the right to try to run my life.” 

            “I know,” Ruby repeated, making a little imploring motion of her hand.  “Just…look.  It seems like there’s really something there between you and Killian.  Don’t throw it all away out of anger at me.  Just…explore it a little.”

            Emma nodded slightly.  “Look, I don’t make any guarantees about anything, but, well, I’ll keep an open mind.”

            “That’s all I ask,” Ruby said, typical exuberance returning with full force.  “Hey!  The band’s about to start!  We’ve got the Dwarfs for the next two hours, and I’ve made it my personal mission to get every last person here out on the dance floor.  Come on!  Let’s go shake our pirate booties!”

            Emma shook her head and laughed, allowing her friend to pull her back toward the stage.

            The band was good.  They started with several up-tempo dance tunes and Emma found she was truly enjoying herself.  True to her word, Ruby went through the crowd, pulling coaxing and bribing everyone she could find to hit the dance floor.  When Emma saw Marco busting out some serious moves with Granny, she knew this was a party that would go down in Storybrooke’s history books.

            After half an hour, the music changed.  “Alright folks,” Doc, lead singer, announced.  “Time to slow things down.  Find that special someone and hold ‘em extra close.”

            As the lyrical music began, Emma felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned around to find herself face to face with Killian, hopeful smile on his face.

            “May I have this dance, my lady?”

            “You want to dance with me?” she asked rather lamely.

            “Aye,” he said simply, extending his hand.  “Your meddlesome roommates have been trying to get us together all night.  Perhaps it’s time we give them something to talk about.”

            “You…you _knew_ about that?” she asked, embarrassment covering her like a cloak.

            He chuckled, taking her hand and leading her toward the dance floor.  “Kind of hard to miss, Swan.  They’ve been anything but subtle.”

            Emma groaned, and covered her face with her free hand.  “I just want you to know I had nothing to do with this.”

            “Oh I know,” he answered, placing one of her hands on his shoulder and holding the other.  “However, there’s no need to fret.  I can think of far worse ways to spend an evening than in the company of a beautiful, fascinating woman.”

            “Killian, I don’t even know how to dance!  You know how to do…whatever this is?”

            He leaned in.  “It’s called a waltz.  There’s only one rule.  Pick a partner who knows what he’s doing.  Come now darling; follow my lead this time.”

            With a shrug she acquiesced, reveling in the warmth of his hand against his lower back, his other hand holding hers, his delighted smile.  It was…fun.

            Not to mention ridiculously romantic.

            As Emma let the music wash over her, she did as Killian asked, following his lead.  It took very little to fall into the simple one-two-three-one-two-three rhythm.

            “Watch the mocking,” she said after some time.  “I’m actually getting the hang of this!”

            “I’m not mocking you, Swan,” he said, spinning her out and then bringing her back flush against his body.  “I’d say you’re rather a natural.”

            All too soon for Emma’s taste, the song came to an end.  Killian brought her hand to his lips, and bowed.  “You look flushed Swan, shall I procure us something to drink?”

            “Yeah,” Emma said, after a moment, “but hold the alcohol this time.  I think I’ve had enough to last me one night.”

            He chuckled and then bowed again.  “You’re wish is my command, love.”

            She watched him walk away, soft smile on her lips.  She would have _never_ expected it, but this gala had turned into one of the best nights she’d had in years…maybe ever.  Maybe Ruby was right.  Maybe it was time to finally put the past in the past, and to move forward into the future.

            “Hello Emma.”

            Emma stiffened at the voice, her hands clenching so tightly her nails would leave puncture wounds on her palm.  Slowly she turned.

            _Walsh_. 

 

 

_Notes_ :

_\--So, I had every intention of making this a day to plot and plan (that makes me sound like a villain, doesn’t it? lol!) and save the writing of chapter 7 for tomorrow, but my muse could not be denied.  I had no choice.  I had to write Emma and Killian’s scene._

_\--A fair amount of the dialogue of their scene (as well as the dialog surrounding the dance) was, of course, taken from Once Upon a Time, so I can’t take credit for that._

_\--Curious about the random music teacher who shared the scene with Captain Swan?  No she’s not a fairy tale character whose identity you need to figure out; just an obsessed fangirl who really wanted to share the stage with her favorite pirate and princes.  Yes, that’s right.  I gave myself a cameo in my own story.  Maybe a bit self-indulgent, but can you blame me?  That’s pretty much the only way I’ll ever get to meet Killian Jones and Emma Swan.  (Unless, of course, any of the rest of you who are writers feel inspired to write Jennifer the music teacher into your own fics ;-p)_

_\--I tried to keep Emma’s and Killian’s scene reasonably close to canon—which, of course, meant I needed someone to punch Hook out.  Given the fact that Killian wasn’t around to do it, I figured Emma was the perfect person to do the honors. :)_

_\--Things were just going too well.  It’s time to bring in a little drama in the form of a certain flying monkey! (Well, Walsh is not technically a flying monkey in this story, but you get my drift.)  Just how he got in, what he wants, and how everyone (especially Killian) will react to him, is yet to come.  You’ll get all of that in chapter 8—along with Emma telling Killian the whole story—which leads to an AU version of another one of my favorite CS scenes…_


	8. Chapter 8

            “Hello, Emma.”

            _Walsh._

            She would have recognized that voice anywhere.  It plagued her memories, haunted her dreams.  She’d hoped with everything in her she’d never hear it again.  She wanted to curse, long, loud and violently enough to make a pirate proud.  She wanted to ball up her fist and plant it squarely in Walsh’s loathsome face.  What was he _doing_ here?!

            She took a breath, let it out, and counted to ten before she turned around.  She wouldn’t ruin Regina’s big gala by making a scene.  Clenching her hands and her teeth, she looked up at the man who’d done his best to ruin her life the year before.

            “What are you doing here?” she asked in a hard voice.

            He took a step toward her, and she resolutely took a step back.  “Now Emma,” he said putting his hands up and pasting a sorrowful look on his face, “don’t be like that.  It’s been a long time; I missed you.”

            “Didn’t ask you that,” she spat, noticing the curious looks many of her fellow “pirates” gave her as they headed to the dance floor where the Dwarfs were starting up again.  “I’ll ask you again.  What are you doing here?  How did you find me?”

            Walsh blew out a long breath, looked away for a moment, and then looked back at her.  “I’m here to see you, Em,” he answered softly.  “It’s been a year, and I haven’t heard a word from you.  What am I supposed to think about that?”

            Emma felt her rage bubbling up.  “Oh, I don’t know.  Maybe that I didn’t _ever_ want to see you again?  Maybe that I moved away because I didn’t even want to be in the same _city_ as you anymore?  Maybe that night we said all we would _ever_ have to say to each other?  Maybe something along those lines?”

            A flash of something—anger? Annoyance?—flashed across Walsh’s face, and then he pasted on the “kind”, “tolerant” look it had taken Emma way too long to realize was all an act.  He stepped forward, and grasped her elbow.  “No, Emma.  I refuse to believe that.”

            She yanked her arm out of his grasp so viciously that if someone had been standing behind her, they’d probably have been knocked out.  “Don’t _touch_ me,” she said through gritted teeth.

            “Everything alright, Miss Swan?” Regina asked from her right.  Emma looked up at her boss, who was evidently on her way to the dance floor with her favorite outlaw.

            “Yeah, fine,” Emma muttered.  “Just getting ready to take out the trash.”

            Regina looked at her for long moments, assessing her.  “You’re sure you’re okay?”

            Emma gave her a tight smile.  “Yeah. Go enjoy your dance.  I can handle this.”

            After another moment, Regina shrugged and then headed on past.

            Walsh tried to take her arm again, but Emma pulled it away.  “Emma, we’re making a scene,” he said in a low voice.  “Is there somewhere more private we can have this discussion?”

            “No need,” Emma said, narrowing her eyes.  “This discussion’s over.  We have nothing to say to each other.  I don’t know how you got in here or how you found me, but it’s time for you to leave.”

            There was _definitely_ anger in his eyes this time.  “Been looking for you for months,” he spat.  “Finally decided to check out your best friend’s home town, and low and behold, I find out ‘Emma Swan’ works as a security guard at her school.  When I heard about the gala, well, I finally had a way to contact you.”

            He’d been stalking her?  She felt queasy just thinking about it.  What the hell had made her think she could ever move beyond the past?  She half believed she was cursed or something.  Not only was she not allowed to move forward, find new happiness, she couldn’t even escape the old familiar pain.  The rage erupted once again.  There was no way in hell she was going to let this man ruin her evening—let alone her life.

            “Yeah?” she asked, voice rising despite herself, “Well guess what, buddy?  You’ve more than worn out your welcome.  The door’s right over there.  Time to use it.”

            He stepped even closer, his face contorted in anger.  She stood her ground, refusing to show even the first hint of weakness.  “We had eight months together, Emma.  Eight months!  You think you can just throw that away over one unfortunate argument?  I came here to try to explain, to try to make you understand!  You’re going to hear me out; you owe me at least that much.”

            She’d never felt such a strong urge to punch someone in the face as she did at this moment.

            “Emma?  Everything alright?” It was David this time.  He’d come to her side, two glasses of punch in his hands.  “This guy bothering you?”

            “I’ve got it, David,” Emma said tightly.

            He eyed Walsh darkly for several moments, and then turned back to Emma.  “Well, I’ll be right over there if you need me.”

            Emma nodded tersely and then turned back to her adversary.  “After what happened last year, I don’t owe you a thing, Walsh.  Not one damn thing.  I’d think you’d get the message when I ignored every call, every text message, every attempt to contact me you’ve made since then.  You don’t get it yet?  Let me spell it out for you. I. Never. Want. To. See. Or. Talk. To. You. Again. Leave. Me. The. Hell. Alone!”

            He got in her face, his expression near demented in his rage.  “Not happening, Em.  You’re going to give me a dance, and then you’re going to hear me out.”

            “Not happening.”

            He grabbed her arm yet again, and she balled up her other fist, ready to punch him so hard he had to blow his nose out of the back of his head, but before she had the chance, her vision was suddenly blurred by black leather.  Killian stepped in front of her and shoved Walsh away, making him loosen his grip on her arm.

            “I believe the lady told you no, mate,” Killian said in a cold, deadly voice.

            “Step aside, pirate,” Walsh growled, trying to push past him.  “This doesn’t concern you.”

            Killian pushed him harder this time.  Emma noticed the ball room had suddenly gone eerily quiet, the band having stopped mid tune at the looming altercation.  Her cheeks flamed as she realized every damn eye in the place was on her and the two men standing before her.  She had to get a hold of the situation.

            “Killian, it’s okay,” she said, stepping up to him, putting a hand on his forearm.  “I’ve got this.”

            “There shouldn’t have to be anything for you to ‘get’, Swan,” Killian said, looking down at her.

            “My thought’s exactly,” Walsh said, stepping forward again, reaching once more for her arm.  “Just be reasonable.  Let me say my peace.  Don’t be like this; don’t be a b..”

            He got no further.  Emma’d reached the end of her patience.  Pulling back, she put the whole force of her body weight into the blow she landed to his smug face.  He hit the floor, out like a light.

“Swan, are you alright…” Killian began.

            The anger was like a live thing inside of her.  She looked around at Killian, at her friends and coworkers, at everyone who stared at her open-mouthed, and suddenly it was all too much.  She had to get out of here!  Spotting a pair of French doors across the ballroom, she marched out, slamming the door behind her.

 

+C+S+C+S+C+S+C+S+C+S+

 

            Killian stood rooted to the floor, anger coursing through him in waves.  He clenched his fist, it taking all the restraint he had to resist hauling up the man’s unconscious carcass and beating him to a bloody pulp.

            He took a deep, ragged breath, running a hand through his hair, memories of his own bubbling up.  He saw her sightless eyes, the blood welling from the wound in her chest.  It wouldn’t happen again.  He’d be damned if he let another woman he cared about be harmed by a man who supposedly “loved” her.

            Killian felt a hand on his arm, and turned to find himself face to face with his best mate, understanding in his blue eyes.

            “She’s okay, Killian,” David said slowly.  “Everything’s okay.  Just calm down.”

            He took another long breath, looking around.  No one had moved; it was as though they’d turned to statues, frozen with shock over the scene playing out around them.  Finally he met his roommate’s eyes again, and nodded tersely.

            Ruby and Mary Margaret rushed into the room, having stepped away to deal with a few gala details, and missing the whole sordid affair.  Their appearance seemed to break the shock around the room, and an excited buzz replaced the uncomfortable silence.

            “What happened?” Mary Margaret gasped, taking her fiancé’s arm.

            “Looks like Emma’s past came back to haunt her,” David answered, gesturing to the still-unconscious man at his feet.

            “Walsh?!” she gasped.  “What is he doing here?  Where’s Emma?  Is she alright?  What happened?  I have to go talk to her!”

            She turned panicked eyes around.  Spying the French doors that had bounced open once again with the vehemence of Swan’s slamming, she started to move forward.  Killian placed a staying hand on her arm.

            “Please,” he ground out, “allow me.”

            Mary Margaret looked up at him assessingly, and finally nodded.  “Killian,” she said softly as he stepped forward.  He turned back toward her.

            “Aye?”

            “Just….make sure she’s alright, okay?” Mary Margaret pleaded. “It’s not my story to tell, but what Walsh did to her….well, she’s probably pretty fragile right now.”

            Killian nodded, and then started forward again.  He stepped toward the doors wondering what he’d find on the other side.   Hurt?  Fear?  Anger?

            He found her standing at the railing of the balcony, head bowed, hand’s clenching and unclenching reflexively.  The light of the full moon bathed her, bringing her tense shoulders into prominence.

            Killian cleared his throat, and she spun around, her face hard.  _Anger then._

            She marched up to him, green eyes flashing.  “I had it handled, Killian,” she said through gritted teeth.  “I don’t need you fighting my battles for me.  I don’t need _anyone_ to fight my battles for me; I can take care of myself!”

            He looked down at her and grinned, taking the chance of stroking her arm.  She pulled away. 

            “Aye, I know it love,” he said, sighing and stepping back, giving her space.  “The question is, why should you have to?”

            She shrugged, and then shook her hand, a hand that had to be stinging after the mighty wallop she’d delivered to the son of a bitch’s face.  “That’s life,” she said in a hard voice.  “You grow up real fast as a foster kid; learn how to protect yourself.  You learn not to count on anyone; no one gives a damn about your problems.”

            Killian imagined the lonely, scared child she used to be and it broke his heart.  He took a chance and stepped forward again, this time being careful not to so much as brush up against her.

            “But, Swan,” he said gently, “you’re not that abandoned child anymore.  You have so many, many people who care for you.  Just now, every person in that room was ready to jump to your defense.”

            She raised hopeful eyes in his direction, and finally nodded.

            “Let me guess,” he said grimly, “that vermin was the ‘scum who was not a perp’ you were talking about earlier?”

            “Yeah,” she said in a heart voice.  “Walsh.”

            She started pacing, finally ending up back at the railing, hands holding tightly, eyes staring sightlessly out over the mansion grounds.  He followed her, taking up his own place next to her.

            “Care to talk about it, Swan?” he asked, more than half expecting her to refuse.

            She was silent for several moments, and then she finally looked at him, nodding.  “Guess it couldn’t hurt.”

            Emma turned back toward the grounds.  “I met Walsh a couple of years ago,” she began in a voice devoid of emotion.  “He was working at this furniture store, and I needed a new sofa.  He hit on me, asked me out right away, but I wasn’t sure.”

She gave a small, self-deprecating laugh.  “Looking back, I should have listened to my gut to begin with.  Anyway, he kept asking, and finally I decided to give him a shot.”

“And so you began dating?” Killian asked, turning her toward him with a gentle hand to her arm. 

            She looked up at him and nodded.  “Yeah, I mean, he seemed like a nice guy.  Always polite, really…I don’t know… _chivalrous_ …you know, opening doors for me and all that.”

            “You came to care for him?” Killian asked, stroking both her arms; she didn’t resist, didn’t even seem to notice.

            “Yeah,” she said.  “I fell in love.  Looking back, I guess I should have known things weren’t quite right.  We’d only been dating a month or so before he started getting really, I don’t know, _possessive_.  He’d get mad anytime I’d go out with my friends or be busy with my cases, that sort of thing.”

            Killian stiffened afraid of where this was going.  “Did he hurt you, Swan?” he asked in a tight voice.

            She shook her head.  “No.  He’d just give me these guilt trips about leaving him alone.  He told me he loved me, and he treated me well, so” she shrugged, “I just…overlooked his moods.”

            “What happened, love?”

            “About eight months after we started dating, he took me to this fancy restaurant, and he proposed,” she said, glancing aside.  “Took me by surprise, and I just…well, kind of ran away.  I told him I needed time to decide.”

            “How did he take the news?”

            “Seemed understanding,” she said, meeting his eyes once again.  “He told me to take all the time I needed.  Well, by the next morning I knew what I needed to tell him.  I loved Walsh, but…well, I knew I didn’t love him enough.  He just wasn’t ‘it’ for me, you know?”

            “Aye,” Killian said, nodding.

            “So, I invited him to my place, planned to break it to him gently.”

            “I’d gather he didn’t take the rejection well?” Killian asked, tensing for the conclusion of her story.

            Emma stepped forward, wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head against his chest.  Instinctively, Killian brought his arms around her, holding her close.

            “Understatement of the year,” she said, chuckling humorlessly.  “I took him up to the roof of my apartment complex and told him I cared about him, but I just couldn’t marry him.  I told him I’d done some soul searching and realized we needed some time apart; a chance to get some perspective.”

            Emma tensed in his arms, and Killian held her tighter, rocking her gently back and forth.  “He went ballistic, screaming at me, calling me every name under the book, throwing chairs, telling me I _owed_ him, after all the time we’d been together.  I’d _never_ seen him like that.  It was like he was totally out of control.  He rushed me; tried to hit me; looked like he was about to throw me off the roof.”

            Killian felt the anger begin percolating once again.  “Did he harm you?”

            She shook her head against his chest.  “Like I said; I can take care of myself.  I told him to leave; that it was over.  That just seemed to make him angrier.  He rushed me one last time, and I hit him over the head with one of the patio chairs.  Called the police, had him arrested, and I thought that was the end of it.  I changed my number, moved away, and thought I’d never seen him again.”

            Killian growled, stepped away and ran an agitated hand through his hair.

            “I should have planted a fist in his face!” he growled.  “Should have used my hook on him!”

            She chuckled.  “Doubt that plastic thing would have made a dent, Killian.”

            He huffed.  “Never underestimate the ingenuity of an angry man, Swan.  I’d have found a way.”

            “Yeah, well,” she said with a shrug, “I took care of it.”

            “Emma,” he said in a strangled voice, “you deserve better than that.  Far, far better.”

            She gave him a small smile, and then nodded, turning back toward the railing. They fell into silence for a time, but finally she turned toward him.

            “You really would have slugged him for me?”

            “Aye,” he said with a shrug.  “Bloke like that…needs ‘slugging’.”

            Emma looked at him for long moments, assessing him.  Finally she nodded.  “Thank you,” she said simply, decisively.

            Killian ducked his head.  He’d never been comfortable with praise, genuine thanks.  Scratching at his ear, he decided to lighten the mood.

            “Perhaps gratitude is in order,” he purred, stepping closer, tapping his lips, turning up the smolder.

            Emma grinned, taking a step toward him.  “Yeah, that’s what the ‘thank you’ was for.”

            “Is that all defending your honor is worth, Swan?”

            “Please,” she said grinning again and shaking her head slightly.  “You couldn’t handle it.”

            Killian leaned in even farther, invading her space.  “Perhaps _you’re_ the one who couldn’t handle it.”

 

+C+S+C+S+C+S+C+S+C+S+

 

            Emma’s heart pounded.  He was close; way, way too close.  The look in his eyes ignited a wildfire in her; she wanted to take him up on his implied offer.  She wanted to kiss that teasing grin off his ridiculously handsome face, kiss him until neither of them could breathe.

            It was a bad idea.  Last thing she needed was to get entangled in another romance.  Hadn’t she learned her lesson with Walsh?

            She hesitated for another moment, watching him, debating with herself, and then she suddenly decided to throw caution to the wind.  Screw it; she was playing the role of a pirate tonight; why not pillage and plunder?

            Emma grabbed his lapels, yanked him forward, and slammed her mouth against his.  She’d surprised him; she could feel it in the shocked way he stiffened.

            But the shock lasted less than a heartbeat, and then he moaned her name.  His hand tangling in her hair, his mouth fusing with hers, her pirate gave her no quarter—not that she wanted any.  Emma opened her mouth, deepened the kiss, turning her head this way and that, trying with every movement to get closer to him.  She reached up and ran her hand through his hair, dragging her nails against the nape of his neck.  Slowly he moved her until her back met the smooth stone of the mansion’s exterior, his hands roaming. 

            She moaned against his mouth, and the need within shocked her.  She had to stop this!  If she didn’t, well, no telling where things might end up.  Calling on every last bit of her will power, she pulled her mouth free, breathing hard, gasping for air.

            “That was…” he said in a shaky voice.

            “Emma, are you…oh!” Mary Margaret said, skidding to a halt as she stepped through the glass doors, taking in the passionate sight before her.  “Um…sorry.”

            Ruby pushed past her and clapped in delight.  “Now _this_ is what I’m talking about!  This is the emotion I was going for in my play!”

            Emma stepped out of Killian’s arms and dropped her burning cheeks into her hands.  Oh, she was _never_ going to live this down!

 

_Notes:_

_\--Sorry for the longer than normal delay in updates!  I’ve been busy writing way too many words of analysis of the last episode for my Tumblr blog, and this fell onto the back burner.  Plus…a bit of writers block.  I knew what I wanted to have happen in this chapter, but just couldn’t seem to find the words to start it._

_\--So there you have it, the story of Walsh…and Captain Swan’s first kiss.  I have a feeling Emma’s right; Ruby will_ never _leave her alone after witnessing that little passionate display!_

\-- _Up next:  The gala is over, but Killian certainly doesn’t want that to be the last he sees of a certain pirate lass.  In the bright light of day, however, Emma decides it’s time to rebuild her walls.  Luckily, she has two roommates eager to hide her building materials.  Will she listen to them, or will their meddling ways drive her even father from her pirate captain_ _?_


	9. Chapter 9

                Emma woke the next morning in stages.  Little by little she swam her way back to consciousness, keenly aware of a feeling of joy and contentment.  How long had it been since she’d greeted the morning with such a spirit of optimism?

                Her dreams had been vague, formless.  All that remained was the impression of pliable black leather, piercing blue eyes, gentle caresses and passionate trysts.

                Emma turned over, keeping her eyes resolutely closed, a smile draping her lips. 

And then she froze. 

She was not alone.

                Slowly she opened her eyes and sat up.

                “Morning!  I didn’t think you’d ever wake up,” Ruby said in her characteristic bubbly voice.

                Her roommate sat at the foot of her bed, smiling eagerly down at her like a particularly rambunctious puppy.  Emma rolled her eyes, memories from the night before suddenly rushing in like a freight train.

                “Ruby,” she said, running a hand through her hair, “remember that time we talked about boundaries?”

                “Yeah,” Ruby said with a toss of her head, “but I figured today was an exception.  I need details.  All the details!”

                Emma stepped into her fuzzy slippers, stretched and got up.  She knew Ruby would be grilling her mercilessly after the kiss she’d walked in on, but Emma had hoped she’d have a little more time before having to delve into the topic.  After all, it was freaking 7:30 in the morning.  On a Saturday!  After Ruby had been out until who the hell knew what time last night!

                “Yeah?” Emma said with a fierce frown.  “Well, I need coffee.”

                “Way ahead of you,” Ruby said, rushing past her to the kitchen.  She picked up a large, steaming, Styrofoam take out cup and presented it to Emma.

                The coffee was strong and black, for which Emma was ridiculously grateful.

                “Okay,” Ruby said, sliding into her favorite chair at the kitchen table.  “You have your coffee.  Now spill!”

                Emma rolled her eyes again.  There really was no hope for it.  Ruby was going to plague her half to death until she agreed to the girl-talk session.  Might as well get it out of the way right off the bat.

                She shrugged.  “Not much to tell.”

                Ruby shook her head in definite disapproval.  “No way you’re getting out of it that easily, Emma.  I _saw_ you and Killian together!  I mean, from the moment the two of you saw each other…there were sparks enough to start a wildfire.  There was enough chemistry between the two of you to blow up a chemistry lab.  You two might as well have had hearts instead of eyes.”

                “That’d be kind of impractical,” Emma muttered under her breath, taking a swig of her coffee.

                Ruby sighed long and loudly.

                “Fine,” Emma said, “I had a good time, okay?  Killian’s a nice guy.  It could have been worse.”

                “Killian’s a nice guy?” Ruby said.  “It could have been worse?  Really?  That’s _all_ you can say?  Come on Emma!  I watched the two of you talk and laugh and flirt your way through dinner.  I saw how natural you two were as on stage lovers.  I saw the sappy looks on both of your faces as you stared deeply into each other’s eyes while you danced.  And don’t forget I saw that kiss!  That was hot enough it nearly set the mansion on fire!  The way the two of you were going at it, I’m half convinced if Mary Margaret and I hadn’t interrupted you, the two of you would have done the do right then and there.”

                Emma felt the heat creep up her face.  “Just how long were you spying on us?”

                “Long enough to get quite the eyeful.”

                “It was just a kiss!” Emma insisted.  “Nothing more.  I was just…grateful for the way he stood up to Walsh for me.  I was just…feeling good.  That’s _all_ there was to it.”

                Ruby scoffed.  “Uh-huh.  Just keep telling yourself that, Emma.  You’re really going to sit there and tell me there was _nothing_ to it but a release of the stress that jackass of an ex-boyfriend brought on.”

                “Yep,” Emma stubbornly insisted, not even believing it herself. 

The truth was…Ruby was right.  There _had_ been a spark between her and Killian.  She’d enjoyed his company more than she would have thought possible.  And when he’d come to her aid, when he’d followed her to the veranda to make sure she was okay, when he’d patiently listened and comforted as she laid out the whole, messy Walsh story…it was as though a part of herself that she’d been missing all her life suddenly snapped into place.  Killian made her feel treasured, cherished.

                It scared the hell out of her.

                The back bedroom opened, and Mary Margaret made her way toward the kitchen.  More like floated on clouds to the kitchen.

                “Morning, you two,” she said, ecstatic smiles wreathing her face.  She accepted the cup of coffee Ruby passed her way, and Emma smiled, seeing the silver and green ring on her finger.

                “Morning,” Emma said.  “Congratulations, by the way.  Didn’t get a chance to say anything to you last night with all the craziness going on.”

                “Thanks,” Mary Margaret said, if possible looking even more incandescently happy.  “That was, without any shadow of a doubt, the best night of my entire life.  Bar none.  David is the kindest, most thoughtful, most amazing man to ever walk the planet.  Can you die of happiness?  ‘Cause if you can, I’m probably just hanging on by a thread right now.”

                “Told you he wasn’t going to break up with you,” Emma said with a grin.

                Mary Margaret laughed, holding out her hand to admire his ring.  “What did I ever do to deserve this?  It’s like…it’s like a fairy tale or something!”

                Emma gave her a hug.  “You deserve every minute of it.”

                “Yeah, and so does Emma,” Ruby said.  “Which brings me back to the original topic of this conversation.”

                Emma buried her face in her hands.  For half a second, she thought Mary Margaret had side tracked their roommate.  Fat chance of that.  Ruby was like a dog with a bone. 

                “Yeah?” Mary Margaret asked.  “What’s that?”

                “Emma and Killian.”

                “What about them?” Mary Margaret asked.

                “About how I kissed him,” Emma said, resigning herself to the fact that there was no getting out of this conversation.

                “So,” Mary Margaret said carefully, conspicuously _not_ looking at Emma.  “Did it mean anything?”

                “No,” Emma insisted, “It was just a kiss!”

                “So why _did_ you kiss him, then?” Mary Margaret continued.

                Emma shrugged, looking away.  “I don’t know.  I was feeling good.  It’s been a while?”

                “That’s _all_ there was to it?  Because, Emma, the look you gave him was like the sun peeking through the clouds after a storm.”

                Ugh!  Getting engaged apparently made her best friend even more poetic than she’d already been.

                “It was _nothing_ ,” Emma insisted, far more vehemently than the situation warranted.  Suddenly restless, she got up and began pacing the kitchen.  It _had_ to be nothing.  She couldn’t do this again, couldn’t give another man the chance to crush her heart.  This…connection she felt with Killian…it had to be broken.  She’d read this story before; she knew how it ended.  It ended with him leaving, breaking her heart, doing his best to utterly destroy her.  She’d be damned if she just stood by and let it happen again!

                Mary Margaret got to her feet and stopped Emma with a hand to her arm.  “Emma, ‘nothing’ is something with you.”

                “Don’t you understand?” Emma asked, frustration rolling off of her in waves.  “It can’t _be_ something.”

                “Why not?” Ruby asked, coming to Emma’s other side.  “I haven’t seen you smile like that since I met you.  And Killian…he looked at you like you hang the stars.  It was just like something out of the movies.”

                “Yeah?” Emma asked rounding on Ruby. “Well this isn’t a movie.  This is life. _Real_ life.  I’ve had enough of suave, debonaire ‘perfect’ men who turn out to be complete bastards!  Didn’t you see what happened last night?  Even when I started to think I could move on, maybe even fall in love again, reality punched me in the face.  Maybe I should thank Walsh for showing up!  He might be the biggest son of a bitch on the planet, but at least he reminded me that it’s stupid to wish for happily ever after!  It might be possible for you and Victor or for Mary Margaret and David, but it’s not in the cards for me!”

                “Oh Emma,” Mary Margaret said softly.  “I don’t believe that.  You just have to have the courage to open your heart to love once again.  Love is _so_ worth it.”

                Emma looked at her best friend for long moments.  “I…I just don’t think it is.  Not for me.  Look, I had a good time with Killian last night, but that’s all it was.  One magical night where I could pretend I was someone I can never be.  Now it’s over; time to move on.”

                “Emma,” Mary Margaret said with her characteristic intensity, “that wall of yours may shut out pain, but it may also shut out love.  I don’t know if Killian is your true love, or if there’s anything lasting there at all, but I do know this.  Ruby’s right.  When you were with him, you were more _alive_ than you’ve been since you moved here.  Don’t let fear destroy your chance at real, true happiness.”

 

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                “Morning, mate!” Killian called out as he walked toward the kitchen, a definite spring in his step.  “Looks like it’s going to be a beautiful day, aye?”

                David set down the newspaper he’d been idly perusing, grinning.  “Killian, it’s raining cats and dogs and the weatherman says we’ll be lucky if we hit fifty today.”

                “Doesn’t mean a man can’t find it beautiful,” Killian said, popping a couple of slices of bread into the toaster.  “Every day one is alive is a good day.”

                David laughed.  “This coming from the man who less than a week ago was drowning his sorrows at the bottom of a bottle of rum.”

                “Let’s just say, Dave, that this morning I feel as though I have a new lease on life.”

                “Wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain blonde pirate wench Mary Margaret found you making out with last night?”

                Killian grinned, rummaging around the refrigerator for the butter.  “You’d best watch that fiancée of yours mate.  Quite the gossip.”

                David slugged him playfully.  “Watch what you say.  That’s my future wife you’re talking about!”

                Killian laughed.  “I’ll endeavor to be circumspect with what I say to ‘Prince Charming’ about ‘Snow White’.”

                “You better be!” David said with a grin.  “So, enough about my love life.  Looked like you had quite the night with Emma.”

                Killian closed his eyes, remembering the intensity in the lass’s eyes as she hauled him forward and kissed him within an inch of his life.  The desire and need had been swift and overpowering.  She was like a drug…so addictive that he knew he’d never get enough.

                But it was more than that, more than just the physical.  That kiss had been earthshaking.  It had turned his whole world upside down.  He might have only met Emma Swan last night, but he knew as soon as her luscious lips met his that he would _never_ be the same again.  Feelings, stronger and more tangible than anything he’d experienced in years, welled up within him.

                “David,” he said finally, “you don’t know the half of it.”

                “So I take it last night wasn’t a one-time thing?”  He heard the teasing, the amusement in his mate’s voice.

                “If I have my way,” Killian said, pouring himself a glass of orange juice, “last night was but the first of thousands….maybe even millions…of nights with Emma Swan.”

                David chuckled.  “I wish you luck, ‘mate’.”

“Come now, Dave, I hardly need luck,” Killian said with a cocky grin.

David laughed again, and then suddenly sobered.  “Look, Killian.  I’m glad you and Emma hit it off so strongly.  I really am, but…just be patient with her.  She’s been burned more times than I can count, according to Mary Margaret.  You saw part of it with Walsh, but he’s not the only ogre she’s dated.  Apparently there was some son of a bitch when she was still a teenager.  Made her fall in love with him, and then left her to take the fall for a robbery he committed.  There’ve been others too, most likely.  Point is, it’s made her guard her heart like it’s Fort Knox.”

                “I’d figured as much,” Killian said grimly, felling the indignation rise up on Swan’s behalf.  “I could see the brokenness in her as we talked on the veranda.  I’d like to get my hands on the blokes who hurt her; have a strong conversation about the proper way to treat a lady.  Probably let my fists do a fair amount of the talking.”

                “You and me, both,” David said.  “It’s just…you and Emma seemed to have a real connection last night.”

                Killian grinned.  “Aye, that we did.”

                “That’s going to freak her out like nothing else could,” David continued.  “You’re going to have your work cut out for you if you want to win Emma’s heart.”

                “Fear not Dave,” Killian said confidently.  “I’m a patient man; I’m willing to wait for her for as long as it takes.  When I win her heart, and I will win it, it won’t be through any trickery.  It will be because she wants me.”

 

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                “Bye Miss Swan!  See ya tomorrow!” one of the kindergarteners called, wrapping his little arms exuberantly around her before racing off to his bus.

                “See ya, kid,” she called back, grinning after the affectionate tyke.

                The day had seemed to last forever.  It was the first day back to work after the gala, and seemingly _everyone_ had asked her how she was doing.   She had no idea her little scene with Walsh had made that much of an impression on everyone.

                She’d said some variation of “I’m fine.  He’s nothing compared to some of the scum I’ve had to take down.  I can take care of myself.  Blah, blah, blah” to just about everyone on campus.

                When she’d returned to the ballroom after Ruby and Mary Margaret walked in on her make out session with Killian, Walsh was starting to come around.  Still furious with Walsh, embarrassed about what had happened with Killian, and just in general _done_ with everything, she’d marched up to him, told him to get the hell out of her town, and promised to have him arrested the next time he so much as came within three miles of her.  The looser had gotten to her feet, spat a couple obscenities in her general direction, and then walked out.

                That was the end of it.  Story over.  No reason for _everyone_ to think she was some fragile flower in danger of being crushed by her big bad brute of an ex.

                After definitively kicking Walsh to the curb, she’d spent another hour or so dancing, talking, laughing and generally hanging out with Killian, Ruby and Whale and Mary Margaret and David.  The night had ended on a happy note as Killian walked her to her car, gave her a quick peck on the cheek, winked at her flirtatiously and told her to dream of him.  How he was able to pull off such blatantly cheesy lines, she’d never know.

                Emma watched as the last of the kids hopped on the bus, then gathered her stuff and headed for her yellow bug.  Normally she hung around for a while after the school day ended and went home with Mary Margaret.  Today, she was just ready to be done with all of it.

                “See you back at the apartment,” she called to her roommate as she headed out the door.

                She wondered how the rest of Killian’s weekend had gone.  She’d been serious when she’d told Ruby and Mary Margaret that her tryst with Killian had been a one-time thing, that she didn’t plan to see him again.  She told herself that there wasn’t really anything between them anyway.  They’d just gotten caught up in the festive spirit of the gala.

                But when she let her guard down, her traitorous mind kept going over and over and over the night in detail—the things he’d said, the way he’d looked at her, the feeling of being in his arms as they danced, and the KISS.  (Her mind insisted on remembering that little embrace in all-caps.)

                If she didn’t know better, she’d say she had a _crush_ on the good captain.  Ugh! 

                Well, it didn’t matter, anyway.  She hadn’t seen Killian at all during the two months he’d been in Storybrooke before the gala.  Chances were she could avoid him again.  Her crush would be like the common cold.  She’d suffer through it for a while, but eventually it would run its course and then things would be back to normal.

                She turned the corner, finally reaching the faculty parking lot, and then froze.  Apparently “operation-avoid-Killian-like-the-plague-so-I-can-get-him-out-of-my-system” was going to be easier said than done.  There was the man himself leaning against her car, arms crossed, devilish grin firmly in place.  Emma’s heart did a little flip that annoyed the living daylights out of her.

                “Afternoon Swan,” he said in that ridiculously sexy accent of his.

                He looked…amazing.  She’d thought his pirate garb was hot, but Killian in dark, skinny jeans, blue button up shirt and short, black leather jacket ought to come with a warning label.  Seriously, a girl could probably get pregnant just looking at him.

                He gave her a knowing look, apparently able to read the wild directions her thoughts were spinning.  She scowled, annoyed with him, annoyed with herself.

                “Killian,” she said with an inclination of the head.  “Wandering a ways from the docks today, aren’t you?”

                He smirked, pointedly refusing to step away from her driver’s side door.  “Can’t a man wander his new home town, love?”

                She shrugged.  “Can’t a woman get to her car so she can go home after a ridiculously long day at work?”

                He stepped aside, and she reached for the door handle.   She had to get away; had to put a little space between them before she did something she would totally regret—like hauling him over to her for  make-out session round two.

                Killian stopped her with a hand to her forearm.  “Could I speak to you for a moment, Swan?”

                Emma looked up, curious at his suddenly serious tone.  “I guess so,” she muttered.

                He looked away for a moment, and then scratched behind his ear.  “I just…well…I wished to let you know that I enjoyed myself at the gala.  I found you quite enjoyable company.”

                “It was certainly an interesting night,” Emma said, leaning against her car and looking up at him.

                “Aye,” he said, smiling tenderly at her.  “You’re bloody brilliant, Swan, amazing.  The way you stood up to Walsh, knocked him into next Tuesday….” He chuckled.  “I’d best remember not to get on your bad side.”

                She grinned.  “And don’t you forget it!”

                “I was wondering, Swan…do you have plans this weekend?  I’d hoped we might endeavor to get to know each other better, see if we enjoy each other’s company as much as ordinary citizens as we did as pirates.”

                Emma’s heart began to pound.  He was asking her _out_?  It scared the hell out of her how much she wanted to say yes.  She was in way, _way,_ WAY too deep here already.  She needed space; she needed to get away.  It was time to run as fast as her legs would take her.

                Emma wrenched her door open and launched herself inside.  She started the car, and then rolled down the window, knowing she couldn’t just drive away.  Killian did deserve an answer at least.  “I…I just don’t think that’s a good idea, Killian.”

                A pained look crossed his face, and then was gone.  “Care to enlighten me why, love?”

                “I…” she began, giving him a pleading look.  What could she say to him?  “Killian, I…just can’t take the chance that I’m wrong about you.  I’m sorry.”

                Rolling up the window, she took off like a bat out of hell, desperate to get away from the disappointment she saw written plainly across his face, refusing to hear the way he called out after her.

 

_Notes:_

_\--*face palm*  Emma, you and your walls drive me_ crazy _sometimes!  You need to listen to your meddlesome, matchmaking roommates!  They know what they’re talking about!  Killian is not Walsh; he’s not going to break your heart.  Ugh, this story was going so well, but this is pre-season 4 Emma, after all.  Nothing in the world is as terrifying as the feelings she’s clearly starting to have for Killian._

_\--As David mentioned to Killian, the whole Neal situation did happen in my little AU world, but there’s no Henry in this story.  I didn’t want to dwell on Neal too much, though.  He is, after all, dead in the canon OUAT universe.  It seems rather bad form to kick a man when he’s already down.  That being the case, I made Walsh the man whose  betrayal hurt Emma the most.  (I guess Walsh is technically dead as well…but he was a flying monkey, and he actively attacked Emma, so I don’t feel so bad about making him the bad guy!)_

_\--Somewhere around two chapters to go in this story.  Up next:  Emma and Killian are both miserable.  Deciding Ruby’s matchmaking attempt was a little too….in your face…Mary Margaret devises a new plan—one that’s far more subtle and far more devious.  Will she have any more success than her friend?_


	10. Chapter 10

Emma walked slowly through the deserted streets of town until she reached the small lake on the edge of Storybrooke.  She dropped listlessly to the park bench that looked out over the peaceful waters.  Closing her eyes, she leaned back and attempted to clear her mind.

            It was early morning; the soft sunrise was still in the process of painting the sky.  Emma wasn’t normally a morning person; she far preferred sleeping in until the last possible moment before she would be late, but this morning she’d woken before the sun, tortured with formless dreams and impressions that had made her restless, needing to _do_ something.

            Emma took a deep breath, appreciating the clean, crisp morning air, the scent of honeysuckle and lilac, the sound of wind blowing through the trees and birds chirping to greet the morning, the warmth and richness of the coffee she sipped.  Maybe if she just focused on this…the spell her senses were weaving…she could escape from her tortuous thoughts.

            It had been a week since the gala; five days since Killian had asked her out.

            And it didn’t seem like she’d had a moment’s peace since.

            By the time she’d returned to the apartment after running from Killian, she’d worked herself into quite the state.  She was _furious_.  Furious with Killian for asking her on that date, furious with herself for wanting to say yes.  But mostly, she was furious with her roommates for manipulating her and Killian and the whole damn situation in the first place.  Furious with them for putting her in the position where she once again wanted something she could never have.

            “Hi Emma!” Ruby had called brightly from her perch on the couch.  “Have a good day at work?”

            Emma scowled then gritted her teeth.  “No,” she said in a hard voice.  “No, I did not.”

            Ruby’s eyebrows rose at her tone, and Mary Margaret carefully set down the book she’d been reading and looked up.  “You wanna talk about it?”

            Emma slammed her bag on the kitchen table, then slunk into one of the seats.  “Yeah, I think I do.

            Both of her roomates took a seat across from her at the table, looking nervously at each other and at her, clearly on edge due to her venomous tone.

            “You know what my day consisted of today?” she began, looking pointedly from one to the other.  “One person after another coming up to me and asking me how I was doing.  Hoping Walsh hadn’t scarred me for life.  Giving me sly glances.  Making comments about Killian and our play.  Giving me stupid grins and shoulder nudges.  It was embarrassing as hell!”

            “I’m sorry your day was…”  Mary Margaret began, but Emma stopped her with a slashing motion of her hand.

            “No!” she said sharply.  “Let me finish!”

            Mary Margaret sat back, pain radiating from her face.  Emma felt a small prick of conscience, but ruthlessly shoved it down. 

            “And then guess what I find when I _finally_ get back to my car at the end of the day?  Killian leaning up against it waiting for me!”

            “Oh!” Ruby said, her eyes lighting up…which, of course, only served to increase Emma’s frustration.

            “Yeah,” Emma said, “Captain Hook himself.  _Last_ thing I needed after the kind of day I’d had!  Anyway, he asked me out.”

            “He did?!” Ruby asked, leaning forward, excited gleam in her eyes.  “Oh Emma!  I knew it!  I know there was something between you!”

            Emma glared at her.  “Yeah?  Well guess what?  I turned him down.”

            “You…you what?” Ruby asked.

            “Turned. Him. Down.” Emma said enunciating each word.

            “But why?” Mary Margaret asked, reaching out a hand to cover Emma’s.  Emma pulled back.

            _Because I wanted to say yes!  Because I wanted to hope this time would be different; that the pull and connection I felt toward him ever since the moment he walked into the gala_ meant _something.  Because after only_ one _night in his company I’m already in so deep I’m in danger of drowning.  Because I already know that when he inevitably walks away from me he’ll utterly destroy me.  Because he already has the power to crush my heart into a fine powder, and I_ can’t _go through that; not again!_

            “I’m not interested,” Emma said.  “I don’t need a man in my life.  I don’t _want_ a man in my life.  You know what?  You both claimed to be interested in my happiness.   Congratulations!  You managed to make me even more miserable than I was before!  So let’s get one thing straight _right_ now:  the next time you get a crazy idea about setting me up with a handsome friend of a friend, just _don’t_.  Take a step back, and stay the hell out of my love life!”

            They looked at her as though she’d slapped them both…and then taken out a knife and stabbed them.  Emma’s conscience woke up and gave her a tongue lashing, but she was in no mood to listen.  Pushing abruptly to her feet, she rushed to her bedroom and slammed the door.

            As soon as Emma cooled down, she felt ashamed of herself.  It wasn’t really her friends that she was upset with, and they didn’t deserve the telling off she’d just given them.  She’d swallowed her pride, stepped out of her room and apologized to them. 

They’d graciously accepted her apology, but things hadn’t been the same ever since.  Ruby and Mary Margaret had been walking on eggshells around her.  She couldn’t really blame them after the way she’d exploded.

            Maybe if she could just find a way to…regain her equilibrium things could go back to normal.  Maybe if she could just move on, exorcise Killian from her mind, her thoughts ( _her heart_ her traitorous mind added). 

            That turned out to be easier said than done.  The morning after Emma had turned Killian down, she arrived at her desk to find a steaming cup of coffee and a note from Killian:

_Emma,_

_I apologize for my forwardness yesterday.  I had hoped you felt as I did, but I see that I was mistaken in my assumptions.  I have no wish to cause you pain or awkwardness.  As our respective roommates are now planning to be united in marital bliss, I’d wager we’ll often be in each other’s company, and I have hope we can establish a friendship.  I spoke nothing but the truth, Emma.  I thoroughly enjoyed your company at the gala and hope that my question yesterday has not ruined our chance to get to know each other on a platonic level.  I wish you nothing but happiness, and so I promise you I will not further burden you with the feelings I have developed.  Please accept this peace offering.  If I’ve remembered correctly, you enjoy your coffee strong and black (but your cocoa with cinnamon)._

_Yours,_

_Killian_

            It was really an incredibly sweet gesture.  Emma appreciated it more than she wanted to admit.  If the thoughtfulness of the gesture warmed her even more than beverage…if she carefully placed the note on her bedside table that night where it would be within easy reach should she want to reread it…no one needed to know about that but her.

            Killian was right.  Over the next several days the two of them had been together on a pretty regular basis, thanks to David and Mary Margaret.  The happy couple was so excited that they began wedding planning almost immediately, and they both wanted their best friends very much involved in the process.

            And so all five of them—David, Killian, Mary Margaret, Ruby and Emma had met time and again to begin setting out the details.

            It was ridiculously awkward, despite Killian’s insistence he didn’t want it to be so.  Emma found herself doing anything and everything in her power to keep her distance from him—being careful to never be left alone with him, taking the furthest seat from him, trying with everything in her not to even _look_ at him.

            Yet despite all of it, she couldn’t help but be hyper-aware of him whenever they were near each other.  She felt a kind of electricity hum through the air when he walked into the room—like the super-charged air just before a thunderstorm.  From time to time, she’d look up and find his eyes, intense yet infinitely tender, fixed upon her.  He looked away as soon as she caught his eye, of course, but it still made the heat and butterflies swirl madly through her stomach.

            How was she supposed to move on with her life and regain her equilibrium with this man around?  She knew better, far, far better than to fall for him, but with each passing day it became increasingly evident that that was precisely what was happening.  During the day she could…almost…succeed in telling herself that he meant nothing to her, that she was over the crush she’d developed at the gala.

But at night, as she lay in her solitary bed, cocooned within the darkness, she couldn’t forget the way he’d stood up to Walsh for her, the way he’d sought her out and comforted her, the way he’d made her so at ease that she’d actually told him of her painful past with Walsh.  Emma Swan was not a woman to pour her secrets out to _anyone,_ at least until they’d proven themselves over a _long_ period of time _._ And yet, she’d confided in Killian and found comfort in his arms; he’d known the precise words, the precise gestures to soothe her uneasy heart.

It scared her more than anything had scared her in years.

            And it made her a terror to live with, without a doubt.  She’d had no more explosions at her roommates’ expense, but she was constantly on edge.  It was like her own private storm cloud had taken up residence over her head.  Neither Mary Margaret nor Ruby had complained—and neither had so much a breathed Killian’s name again—but Emma knew they were concerned about her. 

            A turtle leaped from his perch on a downed tree branch, and landed with a splash into the water, bringing Emma abruptly back to the present.  She sighed and got to her feet.  Whatever her private struggles with her feelings for Killian, her best friends didn’t deserve the way she’d been treating them.  She needed to find a way to make it up to them; a way to show them that she loved and appreciated them, no matter how miserable other events in her life might make her.

            Emma made her way to the little diner on the corner and picked up breakfast for the three of them.  It was time amends, and Granny’s amazing chocolate chip muffins were an excellent way to begin.

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            Killian pushed away from his desk, and massaged his temples.  Though he loved the sea, loved caring for the boats his patrons docked at his marina, he _hated_ the paperwork that inevitably came with the position of marina owner.

            The business was solid; since he’d taken over, he’d managed to fill all but two of his boat slips, making it a simple thing to keep him in the black.  Unfortunately a booming, prosperous business only increased the paperwork load he had to deal with.

            Killian got to his feet and stepped out of his office at the far end of the old boathouse.  If he looked at another column of numbers he would go mad.  Better by far if he were to see to some of the hands-on tasks that needed to be attended to. 

He ambled over to the restroom at the other end of the boathouse and jiggled the doorknob.  This particular lock was getting more and more stiff and unyielding with every passing day.  He really ought to fix it before it became unresponsive altogether.

            As he peered at the gears and fiddled with the mechanisms, he heard the clatter of heeled shoes heading his direction.  Looking up, he found himself face to face with a smiling Mary Margaret.

            “Afternoon,” he said, inclining his head.  “If you’re seeking your fiancé, I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed.  Haven’t seen Dave all day.”

            “That’s okay,” Mary Margaret said, patting him on the arm in a rather motherly way.  “It was actually you I came to see.

            “Me?” Killian asked with raised eyebrows.  “What can I do for you?”

            Mary Margaret looked over at the door he was working on.  “I don’t want to take you away from anything important; I can come back later if you’d like.”

            Killian propped the restroom door open and then headed back for his office, gesturing his guest to follow him.  “Not at all,” he said.  “I was taking a break of sorts, seeing to a bit of an annoyance.  I’m afraid that restroom door really will need to be replaced.  The lock must be decades old; it catches every time the door is closed.”

            When they’d reached the office, Killian took his chair behind the desk and gestured his guest to a similar one near the door.  “So what brings you out to the marina today?”

            “Well,” Mary Margaret looked aside.  “I was just wondering…”

            “Aye?”

            “You have feelings for Emma don’t you?” she said finally meeting his eye.

            Killian took a quick breath.  His mate’s fiancée certainly didn’t plan to beat around the bush today.  Right to the heart of the matter.  Literally.

            “Why do you ask?” he said in a tight voice, trying to buy himself some time.

            Truth be told…his answer was a clear, unambiguous yes.  She’d captivated him at the gala, fascinated him in a way no woman had since Milah.  Strong as the tide that came in each day was his pull toward Emma Swan.  Every passing day in her company seemed to do nothing but strengthen that bond.

            If only she felt the same way.

            He knew she felt _something_ for him.  The connection they’d shared at the gala had been unmistakable, and since then…well, at odd moments when they were spending time with David and Mary Margaret, he’d catch her eyes and see a longing laced with desire within their green depths.  It took his breath away.

            And yet, when he’d asked her for a date, she’d not only turned him down, but ran away from him.  And now…well, she’d barely speak to him, barely come within ten feet of him.  Oh, he knew about her walls, knew about the pain of her past.  Perhaps that could account for her skittishness, but Killian hardly knew.  Perhaps he’d read her wrong.  Perhaps this unshakeable attraction truly _was_ one-sided.

            “I ask because I think you do have feelings for her,” Mary Margaret answered, snapping Killian back to the conversation at hand. “If you want to know what I think, I think you’re falling in love with her.”

            Killian felt the heat creep up his cheeks, and reached automatically to scratch at a spot behind his ear.  Dave’s lady certainly seemed to favor bluntness.  “I…” he said and then cleared his throat and tried again.  “I can’t deny I feel a great deal of…affection for your best friend.  She’s quite the woman.”

            She gave him a knowing look.  “I knew it,” she said exultantly.  “You’ve got it bad for her, just as I knew you would!  The question is, just what do you plan to do about it?  How are we going to get you two together?”

            Killian looked aside.  “Mary Margaret, as you well know, I’ve already tried ‘what I planned to do about it’.  I asked Emma out just after the gala, and she let me know in no uncertain terms that she had no desire whatsoever to continue what happened at the gala.”

            “So you’re just going to give up, then?” Mary Margaret asked.  “Throw in the towel?  I didn’t take you for a quitter, Killian.”

            Killian growled in frustration.  “What would you have me do?  I’ve no intention of pushing Emma to do anything she doesn’t wish to do; I’ve no intention of being a stalker like the scoundrel she last dated.  My unrequited feelings are my problem; I won’t foist them upon Emma.”

            Mary Margaret shook her head and gave him a pitying look.  “If you truly think that, you, Killian, are an idiot.  Your feelings are far from ‘unrequited’.”

            He gave her a skeptical look.  “Aye?  I suppose that’s why she will barely speak a word to me when we are in company together?  I suppose that is why she is so quick to put as much space as possible between us?”

            “That’s exactly why,” Mary Margaret said with a quick nod.  “Why should she bother going to such lengths to avoid you unless she feels a strong attraction to you as well?”

            “Perhaps….because she doesn’t want anything to do with me?”

            Mary Margaret shook her head vociferously yet again.  “Killian, David told me that he told you a little about Emma’s history.  She’s been forgotten and abandoned and betrayed since the day she was born, and it’s led her to guard her heart like it’s Fort Knox.  What exactly did Emma say to you when you asked her out?”

            Killian closed his eyes and thought back to that moment.  She’d looked up at him like a deer caught in headlights.  “She said ‘I can’t take a chance that I’m wrong about you’.”

            “There you go!” Mary Margaret said, nodding decisively.  “She said ‘I can’t take a chance that I’m wrong about you’ _not_ ‘Sorry, but I’m not interested.’  There’s a huge difference.  If she can’t take a chance that she’s wrong about you, that means that her first instinct is that you’re trustworthy; that you’re a man she can count on, a man worthy of her love.  She didn’t turn you down because she has no feelings for you, but rather, because she has too many and it terrifies her.”

            Was it possible?  It certainly fit with the impression he’d gotten of her at the gala.  It fit David’s description of a wounded woman who would find a deep connection with a man a terrifying prospect.

            “And besides,” Mary Margaret continued.  “She’s been utterly _miserable_ since the gala.  She nearly took my head off that day you asked her out.  It’s classic Emma.  The more she feels for someone, the farther she pushes them away.  She did the same thing to me when we first met.  It took me _forever_ to earn her trust.  I’ll tell you one thing, though.  I’ve _seen_ the looks she gives you when we’re all together planning the wedding.  Those, my friend, are not looks of indifference; they’re looks of longing.  She _wants_ the relationship she thinks she can’t take a chance on having with you.”

            “Aye,” Killian said after a moment, a soft smile draping his face.  “Perhaps you’re right.  Perhaps the lass does feel more than she’s letting on.”

            “Of course I’m right.  David should have told you that by now.”

            Killian chuckled.  “Oh, never fear.  To hear David speak of you, you hang the moon and the stars.  Utterly, disgustingly besotted that man is.”

            Mary Margaret beamed.  “Well then, you should take my word for it.  Your feelings are anything but unrequited.”

            Joy bubbled up within Killian, joy that was quickly checked.  He sighed.  “Be that as it may, I’ve no idea how to proceed.  As I’ve said, I’ve no intention of pushing Emma farther than she’s ready to go.”

            Mary Margaret shrugged.  “Two things:  First, be the one who stays.  Show her that you have no intention of giving up on her; that you’ll fight for her until your dying breath.  Second, talk to her; really bare your heart to her.”

            Killian sighed in frustration.  “Easier said and done when the woman in question will barely consent to exchange two words with me.”

            “And that,” Mary Margaret said, leaning in conspiratorially, “is where I come in.  If the opportunity to have a heart to heart doesn’t occur naturally, maybe we need to…massage circumstances to _make_ it happen.”

            Killian narrowed his eyes.  “Am I to believe you plan to attempt _another_ matchmaking venture?  Love, your last attempt was nearly a disaster.  It couldn’t have been more obvious if you’d stepped up on that bloody stage, grabbed the microphone and laid out the entire plan to the whole assembly.”

            “That, Killian, was not my fault.  I made a crucial mistake in recruiting Ruby as my accomplice.  That woman wouldn’t know subtlety if it walked up and slapped her across the face.  This time, I plan to work alone; it will be a covert operation like none you’ve ever seen.”

            “Care to enlighten me as to just what I might expect?” Killian asked, leaning back in his seat and grinning.

            “Well,” she said, drawing out the single syllable.  “It’s probably best you don’t know details just in case this whole thing goes south.  I plan to be the only one implicated this time, should she come to suspect.”

            “Come now, Mary Margaret,” Killian wheedled, “it’s rather rude to keep a man entirely in the dark when your plans involve his future happiness.  Give me a hint?”

            “Fine,” she said on a theatrical sigh.  “As you know, I plan to bring my class here to the marina for a fieldtrip on Friday.”

            “Aye.”

            “I’m thinking at the last minute I might just get _desperate_ for another chaperone.   Should be a piece of cake to get a certain blonde roommate of mine to come to my aid.”

            Killian laughed.  “Mary Margaret, if Emma has successfully avoided my every overture when we were merely in a group of five adults, what makes you think you can halt her escape attempts when we’re surrounded by thirty excited eight-year-olds?”

            Mary Margaret leaned over and patted his arm.  “Let’s just say I have my ways.  Never fear.  I’ll get the two of you alone together with Emma none the wiser, or my name isn’t Mary Margaret Blanchard.  All you need to worry about is finding the perfect words to sweep Emma off her feet.”

 

_Notes:_

_\--Well, I had hoped to get at least the beginning of the matchmaking 2 nd grade field trip here, but the set up just took too many words to lay out.  I had hoped to have this story all wrapped up before the finale (because it might just kill me, and I’d hate to leave an unfinished fic to my posterity), but I’m not sure whether or not that will happen.  Right now, I’m planning 2 more chapters, but who knows? _

_\--So, basically, Emma’s still running like crazy—despite realizing deep within her that she can’t really run away from her feelings for Killian.  Killian’s feeling a little discouraged, but hopefully Mary Margaret’s visit gave him renewed optimism._         

\-- _Up next:  The field trip to the marina.  Can Mary Margaret keep her matchmaking scheme secret for the two days before the field trip?  Can she get Emma to agree to come along as chaperone?  Will she manage to get Emma and Killian alone together?  If so, how will Emma respond to Killian “baring his heart before her” (not literally, thankfully.  People don’t tend to pull out their own hearts in this real-world au I’ve built, lol).  For those of you who were curious, the full, sordid story about Milah comes out in the upcoming chapter._

 


	11. Chapter 11

            Emma gave her hair one last fluff and then eyed herself critically in her full-length mirror.  Not bad if she did say so herself.  With her softly curled hair, carefully applied make-up, long, blue sweater, black jeans, and the boots from her pirate costume (they were cute!  If she was going to spend the big bucks to buy them, she was going to wear them!) she officially deemed herself “cute”.

            Not that it mattered.  Not that it mattered at all.  This was just another day at work; nothing more.  The fact that her day at work was going to consist of chaperoning Mary Margaret’s class on their field trip to the marina meant nothing.

            She had to admit, she’d been more than a little suspicious when Mary Margaret asked her on this particular academic adventure.  The whole thing smelled of yet another attempt to further her (non-existent) romance with Killian. 

But in the end, she’d had to conclude her roommate was on the up and up.  After all, she simply wasn’t that good of an actor.  No, when Mary Margaret had come to Emma in an absolute panic, babbling about a parent chaperone who’d cancelled at the last minute Emma could tell she honestly believed she had a _serious_ situation on her hands.

            Now, she just had to figure out how to guard herself against Killian on his home turf, so to speak.  Shouldn’t be too hard, really.  After all, she’d successfully managed to avoid the crap out of him for more than a week during “Operation Snow and Charming’s Wedding”, as she’d privately dubbed their little nuptial planning meetings.  And this time, she’d have a good thirty rambunctious kids to use as a buffer.

            Nope.  This was _definitely_ going to be nothing but a normal day at the office.

            By the time the Once Upon a Time Academy bus pulled up at the docks and Emma got her first glimpse of the Jolly Roger Marina owner, she was singing a different tune.  How was it even _possible_ that Killian got hotter with each passing day?  Today, in his jeans and tight black tee shirt, he was positively a menace to society.

            And the heated, appreciative glance he lobbed her way as she stepped out of the bus certainly didn’t help matters.

            “All right class, settle down,” Mary Margaret called out firmly.  “I know you’re excited, but…Felix! Malcolm!  Get _away_ from there!...let’s review our ground rules.  You have all met Mr. Jones…Henry!  If you put that gum in Grace’s hair, you’ll have detention for a week…You are to do everything Mr. Jones says.”

            Mary Margaret continued on with a lecture about how the students were representing Once Upon a Time, and she expected them to behave accordingly—punctuated at regular intervals with admonitions to various too-excited-to-stand-still students.  Emma chanced a covert glance at Killian, and found his admiring gaze still on her person.  She felt heat creep up her cheeks, but found she simply _couldn’t_ look away.  He was hypnotizing.

            “Mr. Jones?” Mary Margaret said.  “Mr. Jones, are you ready to begin the tour?”

            And with that, the spell was broken.  Emma blinked and looked away.  Had she honestly just been staring deeply into Killian’s eyes?  What was _wrong_ with her today?!

            Killian cleared his throat and focused his attention back on the class.  “Good morning lads and lasses.”

            “Good morning, Mr. Jones,” thirty young voices dutifully responded in unison.

            “Miss Blanchard is right,” he said with mock severity, frowning in an exaggerated fashion.  “I am the captain of this field trip, and anyone who doesn’t follow orders will walk the plank.”

            “Can I walk the plank?” an eager little boy Emma knew was named Greg called out, raising his hand and jumping up and down.

            “You’re stupid!” a little girl named Tamara shot back at him.  “Nobody _wants_ to walk the plank!”

            “Greg! Tamara!” Mary Margaret scolded, “In our class, we don’t speak without raising our hands and waiting to be called upon.  And Tamara, you know we don’t call each other stupid!

            “Aye, well…” Killian said, attempting to regain some semblance of control of the field trip, “shall we begin?”

            “Yeah!” thirty young voices called.

            The field trip was part of Mary Margaret’s “careers around Storybrooke” series, and as such, its main purpose was to teach the students just what a marina owner did for a living.  Emma knew, however, that it was the promised sail on Killian’s ship that had the second graders nearly writing with excitement.  If she was being honest, Emma was rather looking forward to it herself.  The old-fashioned barque Killian kept at the far side of the harbor truly was magnificent.

            But before they could get to their sail, they followed Killian around as he gave them a tour of the boat house and the boat slips along the harbor.

            “Miss Swan!” a little girl named Eva whispered, tugging on Emma’s sweater, “Cora’s trying to steal Leo’s lunch money!”

            “Am not!” Cora whispered back.  “You’re just jealous because he likes me more than you!”

            “He does not!” Eva returned indignantly.

            Leo merely looked bewilderedly from one little girl to the other.

            “Enough, you two,” Emma said sternly.  Good grief!  How did Mary Margaret put up with this day in and day out?  
            The tour concluded with no mishaps and only a moderate amount of bickering, and then it was time for what the children obviously considered the main event—the exploration of, and sail upon, the _Jolly Roger._ After a quick yet thorough discussion of water safety, the children were strapped into life jackets and invited to make their way up the gang plank—an invitation they quickly accepted.

            “Welcome aboard the _Jolly Roger_ ,” Killian called amiably, “the fastest non-motorized vessel upon the seven seas!”

            “Why’s it called the _Jolly Roger_?” Roland called out from the back.

            “It’s named for the pirate flag, my lad,” Killian answered, pointing up at a banner containing a white skull and cross bones on a black background.

            “Is this a _pirate_ ship?” a red-head named Zelena called from Roland’s left.

            “Of course it’s a pirate ship!” Roland replied.  “Haven’t you ever seen _Peter Pan_?  This is Captain Hook’s ship!”

            “Right you are,” Killian answered.  “When I was a lad about your age, I was fascinated with pirates.  I learned everything I could about them.  When I grew up and bought a ship of my own, well, it was only natural I would christen her accordingly.”

            “But Captain Hook was the _bad_ guy!” Malcolm said with a disgusted curl of his lips.

            “Well, I don’t know,” Killian responded.  “I always thought Peter Pan was a rather nasty little sh…er…boy.”

            “Yeah,” Henry said, “It was mean of him to cut off Captain Hook’s hand and feed it to the crocodile.”

            “But the crocodile was funny!” Malcolm insisted.

            A look of terrible pain came and went across Killian’s face.  That was odd.

            Killian recovered quickly, however, and then abruptly changed the subject.  “Well, in any case, we’ve less than two hours before you must return to school, so we’d best commence the tour.  My associate, Mr. Smee, will show you around the hold and captain’s quarters while I prepare the ship to set sail.”

            The kids and Mary Margaret made their way across the deck and down the hatch.  Emma followed the excited students, but suddenly her boot caught in a loose board, and she fell forward, instinctively putting out her hand to break her fall.  Emma hissed in pain as she felt a long, jagged splinter burrow itself into her palm.

            “Swan!” Killian called, jogging to her side, “are you alright?”

            Emma grimaced—both in pain and embarrassment—and then got awkwardly to her feet.

            “I’m fine,” she said through gritted teeth, brushing at her pants, and then cursing under her breath.  Her palm _hurt_.

            “No,” Killian said, gently cradling her injured hand, “you’re not.  You’re injured.  Let me help you.”

            “Emma?  Everything alright?” Mary Margaret called, peeking her head from the hatch she’d just begun to descend.

            “Yes,” Emma said on a frustrated sigh.  “Just me being clumsy.  You go ahead.  I’ll be there in a moment.”

            Mary Margaret looked eagerly at the hand Killian was currently holding, and a knowing gleam came into her eye.  “No rush,” she said with a little wave of her hand.  “We’ll be fine until you can join us; just take care of yourself.”

            Emma rolled her eyes, feeling the heat once again coming into her cheeks.  This situation was flat out _ridiculous!_   Killian watched Mary Margaret disappear below deck, and then turned his attention back to Emma.  “Come with me love.  I’ve got First Aid supplies near the wheel.  Let’s get this taken care of.”

            “Killian,” Emma said, “It’s really not necessary.  I’m _fine_.”

            “Swan,” Killian said, “You’re bleeding all over my ship.  If you’ve no care for your own person, at least have a care for my fine lady here.”

            Emma grinned in spite of herself.  “Alright, Captain, doctor away.  Wouldn’t want to dirty your ship.”

            “That’s more like it!”

            Killian rummaged for a moment in a white box, labeled only with a large, red cross.  Evidently finding what he wanted, he produced and uncorked a large, brown bottle and upended it over her injured palm.

            “Ahh!” she cried out, trying rather ineffectually to pull her hand back.  “What _is_ that?”

            Killian set the bottle down, still peering intently at her wound.  “Hydrogen peroxide.  Can’t have an infection on my watch, now can I?”

            “What?” Emma asked with a smirk.  “I’d have thought a big bad pirate like you would use rum as your chosen antiseptic.”

            Killian grinned up at her.  “Now Emma why would I do that when I have a substitute?  Bloody waste of rum, that, if you ask me.”

            Emma had every intention of making a devastatingly witty comeback…but suddenly her mouth went dry.  Apparently satisfied that her wound was sufficiently cleaned, Killian produced a long strip of gauze, which he proceeded to wind around her hand.  Holding her hand steady with one of his hands and winding the gauze with the other, he found himself in something of a quandary as to just how he might tie the bandage off.  Coming to a solution he found acceptable, Killian tucked the end in, and then secured it with his teeth…taking care to sear her with a glance that made the heat pool deep in her belly throughout the entire operation.

            After a moment, he dropped her bandaged hand and gave her a grin that was equal parts mischief and sin.  “There now, much better, isn’t it, Swan?”

            “Um…” she said, backing away.  “I…uh…better get below decks.  Chaperoning duties call.”

+C+S+C+S+C+S+C+S+C+S+C+S+

            An hour and a half later Mary Margaret was beginning to get desperate.  She was beginning to believe she’d bitten off more than she could chew where this matchmaking scheme was concerned.  Emma was proving to be almost supernaturally adept at avoiding any situation that might result in being left alone with Killian.

            Mary Margaret had believed fate was smiling on her and her venture earlier when Emma had fallen on deck.  Unfortunately, Emma had returned to the group, hand expertly bandaged, less than five minutes after the rest of the group had headed for the captain’s cabin.  Killian definitely hadn’t had time to win Emma’s heart.

            Clearly, simply leaving the two of them alone wasn’t going to cut it.  She needed to get them somewhere where Emma couldn’t escape.

            The class made its way back to the boat house, where they took turns using the restrooms next door to Killian’s office.

            Restrooms….that gave Mary Margaret a devious, _brilliant_ idea.  Time to put “Operation Emma’s Happiness” into effect.

            Mary Margaret made a show of counting her students, knowing full well that the only one missing was Grace, who was currently finishing up in the bathroom—but Emma didn’t need to know that.

            “It looks like we’re missing one,” Mary Margaret said with assumed concern.  “Anybody know where Grace is?”  
            A hand at the back of the class went up, but Mary Margaret gave the unfortunate child a tiny shake of her head.

            “Maybe she got confused,” Mary Margaret said, glancing at Emma in concern.  “Maybe she went to the old restroom at the other side of the boat house instead.  Emma?  Could you go check on her?”

            “But Miss Blanchard…” the same child at the back said.

            “Henry, not now!” Mary Margaret said.  “We’ve got to find Grace! Miss Swan, please!  Please could you check the restroom?”

            Emma gave her a strange look.  “Wouldn’t it make more sense to check this restroom?  You know, the one you told the kids to use?”

            “Well, obviously she’s not there,” Mary Margaret said.  “Please?”

            Emma continued to look at her skeptically for another moment, and finally shrugged, heading off in the direction her roommate had indicated. 

            Mary Margaret watched as her target…er…friend headed off, and then turned back to her class.

            “Miss Blanchard!” Henry called again, his hand waving furiously.  “Grace _is_ in this bathroom!  That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you!”

            There was the sound of a toilet flushing, and a moment later the supposedly lost little girl, herself, emerged.

            “Thank goodness she’s accounted for,” Mary Margaret said, theatrically putting a hand to her chest.  “Mr. Jones, would you mind getting Miss Swan and letting her know the crisis has been averted.”

            Killian gave her a suspicious look, but finally nodded and headed out the office door.  Mary Margaret followed him out a moment later.  “Killian!” she called in a loud whisper.

            “Aye?” he asked stopping and turning her way.

            “You’re on, buddy,” Mary Margaret said.  “I’m giving you your chance to make your case to Emma.  Don’t screw this up!”

            “What…?” he asked, giving her a startled look.

            “No time to talk, just go to Emma; I’ll take care of the rest!”

            “But Mary Margaret…are you sure this is a wise idea?”

            She put her hands on her hips and gave him her best “teacher stare”.  “Stop being a baby and go win the heart of the woman you’re falling in love with.”

            Thankfully, Killian balked for only a moment more, and then walked forward toward the old restroom.  Mary Margaret followed at a distance, waited until Killian entered, and then sprung her trap.  Whipping the doorstop from its place, Mary Margaret shoved the door closed, and listened in satisfaction as she heard the old lock groan into place.

+C+S+C+S+C+S+C+S+C+S+

            Killian heard the heavy door slam and the rusty lock catch, and spun around, knowing precisely what had just happened.

            _Why that devious little minx!_

            David had better watch himself with this one.  When once she got an idea into her head, there was no stopping her.

            “What was that?” Emma called, rushing forward from one of the stalls she’d just checked.  When she caught sight of Killian, she stopped dead in her tracks and narrowed her eyes.

            “Killian,” she said in a soft, deadly voice, “what’s going on?”

            Killian moved toward the door and tried the handle, knowing full well it was useless.  “I was sent to inform you that the little lass has been accounted for.  Unfortunately, it would seem my hasty entrance dislodged the doorstop.  Love, I think we’re trapped.”

            “We’re _what_?”  Emma asked, running forward and making her own attempt to open the door.  “Killian, we can’t be trapped!  The bus has to head back to the school in five minutes.  I’ve got to get out of here.”

            Emma jiggled the handle, tried to manipulate the lock, even kicked the door in frustration, but it was to no avail.  There was no getting out of here.

            “Calm down, Swan,” Killian said, taking hold of her shoulders and steering her away from the door she evidently had decided to try to remove by brute force.  “We’ll figure this out.  Perhaps you’d best text Mary Margaret and advise her of the situation.  I’ll attempt to contact someone to come to our aid.”

            Emma gave him a venomous glare, and then whipped out her phone and began typing furiously.  “This is _ridiculous_!”

            After a few moments, it was all sorted out.  Marco would come and see about letting them out….but it would take him no less than an hour to arrive; he was busy with an urgent job that he simply couldn’t leave.  Given the constraints of the school day, the Once Upon a Time bus was given no choice but to leave Emma to her own devices.  Mary Margaret apologized profusely, vowing to come back and help the _second_ school let out.

            When Emma finally realized they’d exhausted all their options for escape, she slid down the door and sat moodily upon the tile floor.  “Great!  Looks like we’ve got an hour to kill.  Any ideas what we might do in the meantime?”

            Killian took his place beside Emma, and looked around.  Three old fashioned basin sinks, three stalls, and a shower back in the far corner.  He turned a teasing grin Emma’s direction.  “Well, love, there is a shower over there.  Perhaps we could have some good...ahem… _clean_ …fun while we wait for our rescuers to arrive.”

            She smacked his arm, rolling her eyes.  “Yeah, not happening buddy.”

            He shrugged good-naturedly.  “Can’t blame a man for trying.”

            They lapsed into silence for a time, and Killian thought feverishly.  Emma was bloody furious.  How was he to broach the topic he was so desperate to discuss?  Finally, taking a deep breath, Killian decided there was no point tiptoeing around it.  It was time he jumped in with both feet.

            “Emma,” he said, turning toward her and waiting for her to meet his gaze.  “I think we need to talk.”

            Her eyes widened, and she visibly withdrew from him, shaking her head.  “No.  We don’t have anything to talk about, Killian.”

            “I think we both know that we do,” he continued, making no move to close the distance between them.  “As David and Mary Margaret apparently have plans to keep us busy up until the day of their nuptials, we’ll, of necessity, be in each other’s company on a regular basis.  It will be a long several months if we don’t address this awkwardness that has crept up between us.”

            Emma crossed her arms, and studiously looked away from him.  “What awkwardness?  I haven’t noticed any awkwardness.”

            Killian reached a gentle finger forward and tipped her face so that she was facing him.  “You told me once, Swan, that you have a thing about lies.  Apparently it does not extend to an ability to tell a convincing one.”

            She blew out a noisy breath and scowled up at him.  Finally she threw up her hands in a gesture of defeat.  “Fine!  Things are awkward.  Happy?”

            He gently shook his head.  “Not in the slightest.  I have no wish to cause you pain, Emma.  Please, let us address this thing between us, so that we can move forward.  It pains me to see you so miserable.”

            “There is no ‘thing’ between us,” Emma insisted.  “It was just one night.  Not even a night, an evening.  We got caught up in the excitement and the atmosphere and my friends’ crazy schemes.  That’s it.  It’s over; end of story.”

            “That kiss we shared would seem to prove otherwise.”

            Emma got up and started pacing.  “It was just a kiss!  That’s all.  It meant nothing!  Less than nothing; probably happened because of all the rum we’d drunk.”

            She was scared, terrified.  Killian ached for her, desperate for some way to heal her from the pain and heartbreak that had brought her to this point.  “Emma, for my part, it was far more than that.  From the moment I first saw you at that gala, I knew my life had changed.  It was as though there were some sort of…magnetic charge drawing me inexorably to you.  You are like no woman I’ve ever known, and I want nothing more than to spend time in the glow of your presence.  Swan, if I’m not mistaken, you felt the connection as well.  Have I misunderstood the situation?”

            Emma turned tragic eyes in his direction and stood still for long moments.  Killian began to fear she would run away again, if not physically, as they were good and truly trapped, at least emotionally.  If she were to refuse to talk with him, he didn’t know what he’d do; he was out of options.  Finally Emma dropped her eyes and resumed her seat beside him, her shoulders hunching in defeat.  “I _can’t_ do this, Killian.  I can’t fall for you!  Of course I felt the connection between us, but…Killian, every person I have ever cared for is gone.  If I were to just give in to these feelings…and then I lost you too?  I _can’t_.”

            Killian went with his instinct.  Pulling her to him, he simply held her; it was a mark of her emotional state that she put up no protest.  For long moments they stayed like that, her burying her face in the crook of his neck, him stroking her hair, her back, murmuring sounds of comfort.  How was he to show her her fears were groundless?

            “Emma,” he said finally, “believe it or not, I know precisely the anguish you’re feeling.”

            Emma sat up, and swiped her hands across her suspiciously damp eyes.  “Do you?”

            “Aye.  If you would permit me, I would like to show you something.”

            Emma nodded.

            Killian turned his arm over to expose the tattoo that decorated his forearm.  A large, red heart, pierced with a dagger; the name “Milah” emblazoned over all.  Emma reached over, and ran gentle fingers over the tribute to the woman he’d loved.

            “Who’s Milah on the tattoo?” she asked, looking up at him with sympathetic eyes.

            “Someone from long ago.  I lost her more than five years ago now, and I didn’t think the pain would ever leave me.”

            “Tell me about her?”

            Killian closed his eyes, remembering all of it—the beautiful, passion filled moments at first, the argument, the violent act that ended all of it.  He’d never told anyone the entirety of it, but he suddenly needed to unburden himself.

            “I met her when I was fresh out of university,” Killian began, staring sightlessly toward the window high on the wall.  “She was…exotic, exciting, everything I could have wanted.  We fell in love in little more than an instant, and I knew, I just _knew_ we would be together forever.”

            “What happened?”  She reached out and took his hand, and he squeezed gently.

            “Once the first blush of excitement and romance was past, I began to realize things were not quite as they seemed.  She began spending time with me more and more sporadically, never at her home, always at mine.  I confronted her about it and…she admitted that she was married.”

            “I’m sorry,” she said simply.

            He shrugged.  “That should have been the end of it.  A man of honor would have broken it off immediately when he learned she was not free to give her affections, but I…I didn’t have the strength.  Maybe if I had, she wouldn’t have…”

            Killian stopped and cleared his throat, emotions rising up and threatening to choke him. Emma laid her head against his shoulder, offering wordless comfort.  Killian turned his head and brushed a soft kiss against her forehead.

            “So you chose to stay with her?” Emma asked gently, not a trace of condemnation in her voice.

            “Aye,” he said, nodding.  “I chose to stay with her.  She never told me the identity of her husband, and I never asked, hating to think of the man who she went home to every night.  I tried to tell myself that it was enough; that I knew Milah loved me; that I knew she _chose_ me, but little by little the resentment started creeping in.  It wasn’t enough.  I didn’t wish to merely have Milah in fevered, clandestine encounters; I wished for her hand as well as her heart.  I begged her to leave her husband.”

            “But she refused?”

            “Aye,” he answered, lacing his fingers with hers, needing her comfort for the final part of his sordid tale.  “She refused.  She claimed her husband would take the news poorly, and she was afraid of what might happen as a result.  If only I’d left it at that!  If only I’d been content with what I had without wishing for more!  On that last day…we had an argument.  I…I told her I couldn’t do it anymore; I couldn’t live a lie.  I gave her an ultimatum: either she leave her husband or I could no longer be with her.  She stormed out, livid, claiming if I didn’t want her on her terms, she was finished with me.”

            “She left you?”

            “No,” he ground out, the pain of that day, the worst day of his life pouring over him in waves.  He closed his eyes against the tears that threatened.  “I thought she had, but…she called me an hour later, claimed she was sorry, she was going to finally tell her husband.  We made plans to meet in our favorite park—the place we first met—after the deed was done…”

            Killian broke off with a strangled sound.   Emma reached up with her free hand and cupped his cheek, placing a quick kiss against his lips, she pulled back.  “Tell me what happened, Killian.”

            “I…” he cleared his throat.  “I went to the park as expected and I found…I found her there, seated on our park bench.  I didn’t realize anything was wrong, at first, but then I noticed the blood.  There was so much blood.  Eventually I became aware….there was a long, wavy dagger protruding from her chest.”

            Emma gasped.

            “He’d killed her!  The son of a bitch plunged his bloody dagger into her heart and left her bleeding body in a public park!”

            “Killian....”

            Killian continued.  “When my original wave of horror had passed, I noticed the dagger in my lovely Milah’s chest.  It contained an elaborate etching of a crocodile, and suddenly I knew. It was my fault; my bloody fault.  If I’d had any idea who she was married to…what he was capable of…!  As the investigation into the murder proceeded, it all came to the fore.  My Milah was the wife of Robert Gold, the international mob boss who went by the name of…”

            “The Crocodile!” Emma continued.

            “Aye, the bloody crocodile.  I see his reputation extended across the pond.”

            “Yeah,” Emma said, “in the law enforcement circles I frequented, he was big.  Everyone wanted to be the one who brought the Crocodile and his posse of lady villains to justice.  Killian, you’re in danger!  If you had an affair with the Crocodile’s wife…”

            “Calm yourself, Emma,” Killian said, “it’s over.  Milah’s murder was his last act of brutality.  The dagger he used to snuff out my love’s life was incriminating enough to warrant a search of his house and grounds, and there was ample evidence uncovered of his associate’s ties to him.  They’d gone by such fanciful titles as “The Dragon”, “The Sea Witch” and “The Dog Whisperer”, but Gold kept such extensive notes, it was easy to uncover their true identities.  They were arrested, and began singing like canaries in order to ensure lighter sentences for themselves.  Their testimony was so damning, Gold was given life without parole.  He was further moved to solitary confinement out of fear he was a danger to his fellow inmates.  The trial ended not long before I moved here…and I’m finally trying to go on with my life.”

            “Killian,” Emma said, tears standing in her eyes.  “I’m sorry!”

            He hugged her to him, needing her warmth, needing her touch.  “So you see, love, I too know what it is to lose those you love.”

            Killian sat back and looked into Emma’s eyes.  “Emma, I never thought I’d be capable of letting go of my first love, my Milah, to believe that I could find someone else.  That is until I met you.”

            Emma’s eyes widened, and a single tear made its way down her cheek.  Leaning forward, she joined her lips to his.  It was a long kiss, deep and tender.  Killian responded immediately, cupping the back of her head, and drawing her closer.  The embrace went on and on, and Killian felt as though he were drowning in her, warmth and comfort like he’d never known radiating from her back to him.  When he finally had to pull back for air, he couldn’t bear to move away, merely resting his forehead against hers, eyes still closed.

            “Emma, love,” he said in a voice hoarse with emotion, “I don’t know what the future might bring, but know this. I will not break your heart.  I will stand beside you until my dying day if you’ll let me.  Please, give me a chance to prove myself.  Take a leap of faith; let me heal your broken heart as you are healing mine.”

            Emma cupped his cheek, bringing his face over for one more soft kiss.  “Okay.”

 

_Notes:_

_\--Well that chapter came together fast.  Maybe I’ll be able to make my before-the-hiatus self-imposed deadline after all!  This chapter got long, but I didn’t want to break it up; I wanted to get all of this in one chapter._

_\--I couldn’t resist turning various OUAT characters into mischievous 2 nd graders!_

_\--What CS au would be complete without the “Hook bandages Emma’s hand in the sexiest manner known to man woman and magical creature” scene at the top of the beanstalk?  Likewise, the “until I met you” speech was also obligatory. :-)_

_\--So it looks like Mary Margaret’s matchmaking attempts were a success!  Hopefully she and Ruby don’t gloat too much, but then again, Emma will probably be happy enough to not even care if they do!_

_\--I’d like to give a shout out to Lifeinthewoods, who gave me the idea for trapping them in the bathroom!  I knew I wanted to somehow get them somewhere they couldn’t escape so that they could finally have their big heart to heart, but I was drawing a blank about just how to accomplish that._

_\--Up next: after an emotionally charged chapter, I’m ready for a little fluff, so basically that’s what you’ll get for the last chapter, which will serve as an epilogue of sorts.  In this final chapter, I’ll revisit the (non-angsty) parts of an episode that CSers loved (and hated).  Any guesses what in the world I’m talking about?_

           


	12. Chapter 12

_Note:  This chapter contains enough sickly sweet fluffiness it will probably give you tooth decay.  You have been warned.  Please do not send me your dental bills ;-p_

 

Killian stepped out of his office and stretched.  He looked around the open and largely empty boat house and began to dream.  He had plans for this space, big plans.  Built to house smaller boats and canoes, this space was barely being utilized, the larger boats in the slips bringing in the bulk of his business.  He had visions to add a restaurant on one side of the structure.  Maybe he could expand his charter and pleasure cruise business, and put its headquarters along the other.

            He had visions of years and years of growth and expansion, because he planned to put down some serious roots in this sleepy little town.  As long as Emma Swan lived in Storybrooke, it would be his home.

            His heart beat a little faster and his smile got a little wider as he thought of his lady.  Was it really possible that it was only yesterday afternoon that they’d been trapped in the bathroom together and his whole world changed?  Somehow, it felt like they’d always been together.

            Everything was a little brighter today after Emma agreed to give him a chance to prove himself to her.  The sun was warmer, the colors more vibrant.  It was as though he’d been trapped in a black and white world all his life and had suddenly been introduced to color.  It was a whole new world he’d never even knew existed.

            Marco had been late coming to their aid yesterday, showing up closer to two hours after he’d called than one.  Needless to say, he’d not complained…nor had his lovely Swan.  They’d passed the time quite amiably.  After Killian’s emotional revelations, the mood had lightened considerably.  They’d laughed, flirted….and spent long moments saying nothing at all, with words at least.  Killian closed his eyes, savoring the memory of Emma’s soft gentle kisses…her fevered passionate kisses…her reassuring caresses.

            Was it possible to die of happiness?  If so, he’d probably best prepare his soul.

            They’d decided to take this slow.  This wouldn’t be a flash in the pan relationship, but a union that would take a lifetime to develop.  He didn’t want to gorge himself in a mad rush, but rather to savor each moment, each step along the journey.

            “I see you’re hard at work, pirate,” came the teasing comment from behind him.  Killian spun around, smiling like an absolute fool at the very sound of her voice.

            “Just planning, Swan,” he said, moving forward and placing a quick kiss along her jawline.  “The business is quite sufficient for the moment, but it’s brimming with potential.  In a few years we could make this place into _the_ destination for the discerning boater.”

            Emma’s smile was filled with wonder.  Moving to her tip-toes, she tilted her head and gave him a quick peck on the lips.

            Killian touched the spot reverently as soon as she stepped away.  “Not that I’m complaining, love, but what brought that on?”

            “You’re talking about the future,” she said in a soft voice.  “You talked about what you plan to do here in a few years.  You really are planning to stay.”

            He reached up and smoothed a flyaway strand of blonde hair, securing it behind her ear, smiling tenderly.  “Aye.  I told you as much.  As long as Storybrooke is your home, it’s mine as well.”

            Emma moved forward and gave him a proper kiss, long and sweet this time.  Killian wrapped her in his arms and abandoned himself to the moment.  When they finally parted, Killian smiled and interlaced their fingers.  Gently tugging, he led her toward the door and the sea.  Nothing like enjoying your one great love with your other.

            “So what brings you to my fair establishment, Swan, other than my dashing person, of course?”

            She grinned and swatted him playfully.  “I’ve come to ask you out.  To dinner…or something.”

            He halted abruptly, suddenly at a complete loss.  She looked up at him with curiosity, and something like concern.  Was the silly woman really afraid he’d refuse her?

            “I thought I was the one who was supposed to ask you out.”

            She smirked up at him.  “Yeah you tried that once already.  Didn’t work out so well.  I thought maybe I could manage to have more success.”

            He grinned.  “And so you shall.  Alright, Swan, I happily accept on one condition: you allow me to plan the evening.”

            Emma shot him a look of mock outrage.  “I can plan a date!”

            “Aye,” he said, “but, this being our third date and all, I have hopes to make it a magical night to remember.”

            “Our _third_ date?  Did I miss the other two?”

            “Oh no, you were certainly there, love,” Killian said grinning.  “The first was the gala and the second was the bathroom.”

            She laughed.  “You’re full of it, Jones!”

            “Aye, but you wouldn’t want me any other way.”

            They walked the beach for a few moments, and then Emma sighed.  “I guess it’s time I actually go to work.  For some reason, Once Upon a Time Academy doesn’t want to pay me to hang out with my boyfriend.”

            The world “boyfriend” warmed him more than the sun at the height of summer.  He took her hand and slowly brought it to his lips.  “Until tonight then, my Emma.”

+C+S+C+S+C+S+C+S+C+S+

            Emma paced the living room of the apartment, feeling like she was ready to fly apart and scatter into a thousand pieces.  When was the last time she’d been so ridiculously nervous for a first date?

            “This was a stupid idea,” she said, panic evident in her voice.  “What was I _thinking_ asking Killian out like that?”

            Mary Margaret, gave her a quick hug.  “You were thinking it was time you enjoy the good moments for a change.”

            “But what if this is a flop?  What if he doesn’t enjoy himself tonight?  What was I thinking?  Why did I wear this dress?  Maybe he’ll hate the dress.  What was I _thinking_?”

            “Wouldn’t worry about the dress,” Ruby said with a smirk from her perch on the couch.  “I’m sure Killian will find it _gorgeous_ pooled on his bedroom floor.”

            Emma shot her an exasperating look.  “Ruby, you are _not_ helping!”

            Ruby got to her feet and came over to her.  Steering her toward the full length mirror on the far side of the living room, she pushed her forward.  “Emma, _look_ at yourself.”

            Emma did as she was told.  Hair curled, and tied up in a high pony tail, soft, sleeveless pink dress with a full, knee-length skirt, cute heels.

            “You are going to blow him away,” Ruby continued.  “He’s not going to know what hit him.”

            Impulsively, Emma turned around and hugged her irrepressible roommate.  “Thanks.”

            *click*  Emma turned around to find Mary Margaret at her side, polaroid camera and big smile at the ready.  She laughed.

            “What’s that for?”

            “Documentation,” Mary Margaret said, grabbing the photo that emerged and waving it back and forth.  “I plan to have _lots_ of photos to choose from when you decide you want me to put together a ‘history of our relationship’ slide show to play at your wedding.”

            Emma grinned and rolled her eyes.  “Will that come before or after your ‘See, I told you so; you should have saved us all some time and just gotten engaged that first day I tried to set you two up’ speech?”

            Mary Margaret shrugged.  “We can play that by ear.”

            There was a knock at the door, and suddenly the butterflies that her roommates had managed to calm came fluttering back to life in a big way. 

Ruby gave her a little push in the right direction.  “Time to welcome Prince Charming.”

            “Hey!” Mary Margaret said, hands coming to hips indignantly.  “ _I_ happen to be engaged to Prince Charming, thank you very much!”

            Ruby rolled her eyes.  “Have you read fairy tales?  Pretty much _every_ princess’s prince is named Prince Charming.  Fairy tale kings and queens must have all been under some kind of curse of bad naming skills.”

            Emma shook her head, smiling, as she headed to the door, wondering how she’d possibly made it twenty-eight years of her life without Ruby and Mary Margaret.

            Emma opened the door, and then she had no thoughts at all.  There he stood, fully decked out in the attire he’d donned for his first attempt to ask her out.  Dark jeans, tight enough to be painted on, dark blue button down (the color of his eyes), black vest, and black leather coat.  He stood still, slightly bashful look on his face as he took her in, perusing her from head to toe.

            “You look stunning, Swan.”  His admiring gaze warmed her, made her feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.

            “Thanks,” she said, holding onto the door (to keep from melting into a little puddle at his feet).  “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

            He stepped forward and swept his left arm forward, presenting her with a single red rose.  “Wow, you really went all out, didn’t you?” she asked, taking the proffered offering, and bringing it delicately to her nose.

            He smiled tenderly, cupping her face in one hand.  “I’d go to the end of the world for you, or time, Swan.  Procuring a simple rose was mere child’s play.”

            “Ugh, you two!” Ruby said rolling her eyes and sighing theatrically.  “Just haul off and start making out already.  You know you want to.”

            Emma shook her head, gave her roommate a look of mock exasperation and then turned back to her date.  “See what I have to put up with around here?  I don’t get a moment’s peace.”

            “Oh, I don’t know, love,” Killian said with a grin.  “I must admit your roommate’s suggestion has merit.”

            “Maybe,” Emma conceded, “but I’d rather not have an audience for that little activity.”

            “Emma, you’re no fun at all,” Ruby grumbled, crossing her arms and dropping to the sofa next to Mary Margaret.

            *click*  “One more photo for my scrap book!” Mary Margaret called.

            Emma laughed.  “Killian we better get out of here before they start planning our wedding…or worse, our wedding night.”

            Killian guided her toward the door with a hand to her lower back.  “As you wish, milady.”

            “Have fun, kids!” Ruby called after them.  “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do…at least without telling me about it!”

           

+C+S+C+S+C+S+C+S+C+S+

            “You brought me back to the mansion?”  Emma asked in amusement as he pulled up at their date destination for the night.

            “Aye, that I did,” he said, unfastening his seat belt, hopping out of the car, and hurrying around to get her door for her.  “And quite a few strings I had to pull to book the establishment on such short notice.  Leroy was planning an anger management seminar for this evening, and it took some serious wheedling to get him to change his venue.”

            “Killian, you are a braver person than I!” Emma said laughing and then taking his proffered arm.  “What’d you have to do to get him to agree?”

            “Nothing much,” he said looking down at her.  “I promised to take him sailing any weekend of his choice, free of charge.  If he likes, he can bring his fellow angry compatriots.”

            “Remind me to stay far, far away from the docks on that particular day!” Emma laughed.

            Killian jogged forward and pulled the heavy door open, ushering his lady inside, hoping his efforts met with her approval.  She was an absolute vision tonight, all soft frills and femininity.  A delicate lilac scent surrounded her like a cloud. 

            They entered the ballroom, and Emma gasped.  “We’ve made it back to Caribbean Shores?” she asked, eyes sparkling up at him.

            “Aye,” he said, leading her to the single table in the middle of the floor.  “As this is where it all began, I thought it would be a good place to begin our relationship in earnest.” 

He’d gone to Ruby the moment Emma left for work this morning, knowing the perky brunette would be more than happy to help him with his undertaking.  With her help, he’d gathered and set up each and every decoration that had decked the mansion on the day of the gala.  She’d even used her party planning connections to book The Dwarfs for the night.

            “It’s beautiful, Killian!”

            The Dwarfs began a soft ballad in the background, as Killian pulled out Emma’s chair, seated her, and then took his own across from her.  Reaching across, careful to avoid the sea-inspired centerpiece, Killian took both of her hands in his. “I thought perhaps we could try this night over again.  Without the fiasco that was your roommates’ ridiculously overt attempt to matchmake.”

            “Killian, this is amazing.  I can’t believe you did all of this for me.”

            “Emma,” Killian said gently, “you’ve had a lifetime of people failing to recognize the priceless treasure you are.  I intend to spend the next sixty years or so doing all in my power to remedy that situation.”

            He saw the tears come into her eyes, as she leaned forward.  He met her halfway, letting her soft lips speak thoughts too tender for mere words.  She deepened the kiss, and it threatened to go from gentle and loving to desperate and passionate.  With reluctance, Killian pulled away.  “There will be plenty of time for that later, love.   First dinner and dancing.  Besides, I’d hate to scandalize the Dwarfs.”

            “Wouldn’t want to do that,” she agreed with a smile.  Killian was pleased to hear how breathless her voice had become.  “So when will we get that dinner?  I’m starving!”

            “Patience, love,” he said, rummaging around in his coat pocket.  Producing a long, rectangular box, he placed it before her.  “First, I’ve something to give you to commemorate our first _official_ date.”

            She looked up at him in surprise, and then reached for her gift.  Removing the lid, she pulled out a delicate silver chain on which hung a graceful swan pendant, fashioned of silver and pearls.  She ran delicate, fingers over the bauble then turned shining eyes toward him.

            “This is beautiful.”

            Killian got to his feet, took the necklace from her, and draped it around her neck.  “This is more than a mere trinket.  It’s a symbol of hope, possibility.  Lovely and resilient, much like you.”  Killian leaned down, peppering gentle kisses along her jawline, down the soft column of her neck, over her collarbone.  She tilted her head, granting him further access.  After a quick peck to her lips, he returned to his seat. 

            “Thank you,” she said gently.  “Remind me to find a better way to show my gratitude later, when we’re alone.”

            His eyes sparkled.  “That, love, you can count on.”

+C+S+C+S+C+S+C+S+C+S+

            Emma ambled up the steps to her apartment, wondering if her feet were even touching the ground anymore.  Killian Jones certainly knew how to sweep a girl off her feet when he wanted to. 

The date had been nothing short of magical.  After a sumptuous dinner and an hour or two of dancing (well, to be fair, it could probably better be described as holding each other and swaying while gazing deeply into each other’s eyes), Killian had driven her back to town and invited her to take a moonlit stroll along the beach.  Shedding her heels, she’d walked barefoot, savoring the soft feel of the sand beneath her feet, the gentle tide that washed over her toes again and again, the warmth of Killian’s shoulder beneath her head, the gentle thudding of his heart beneath her hand.

            As they’d strolled along, talking about nothing and everything, the wind had picked up, and Emma shivered, regretting the thin material of her dress.  Killian noticed immediately, shed his jacket and draped it around her shoulders.  It smelled of leather and rum and the sea and _him_ , and wearing it made her feel as though she were wrapped in his embrace.

            Finally, he’d brought her back to her home, and they stood, hands clasping and unclasping.  Emma was reluctant for the night to come to an end.  “This actually turned out pretty great,” she said finally. 

            He leaned in close.  “Don’t sound so surprised, Darling.  I told you I know how to plan an evening.”

            The smile she turned his way was radiant.  “You wanna come in and have some coffee…with a couple of roommates who are nosy and meddlesome as hell?  I _really_ need my own place!”

            He grinned.  “Maybe next time.”

            “Next time?” she flirted.  “I don’t remember asking.”

            “That’s because it’s my turn,” he suddenly turned serious, his voice dropping to little more than a whisper.  “Will you go out with me again.”

            She leaned forward and captured his lips in a kiss guaranteed to curl his.  Carding her fingers through his hair, turning her head this way and that deepening the kiss further with each passing moment she inflicted sweet torture on him, on herself.  Eventually, she pulled back, resting her forehead against his.  “That was a yes, by the way.”

            He chuckled softly.  “I’d gathered as much.”

            Groaning softly, she stepped away, shrugged out of his coat and handed it back.  “Goodnight, Killian.”

            She heard his soft “Good night, my love” as she disappeared inside.

            Leaning up against her closed door, she shut her eyes, and reverently touched her lips, savoring each feeling, each memory, each moment of the date.  Letting Killian in, giving him a chance to prove himself was the best decision she’d made since…well, ever.

            “So how was it?”

            “Where did he take you?”

            “Was it romantic?”

            “Was there a goodnight kiss?”

            “Details, we want every teeny tiny intimate detail.”

            “Well, maybe we don’t want _every_ detail.”

            Emma startled at the sound of the rapid-fire barrage of questions her roommates lobbed her way.  She turned and barked out a laugh.  There they sat on the couch, looking every bit like anxious, excited parents waiting up for their teenage daughter after the prom.

            “Did you guys _seriously_ wait up for me?”

            “We’re just excited for you, that’s all,” Mary Margaret said, beaming.  “We hoped everything went well and you had a good time.”

            “It went beyond well,” Emma admitted, thinking privately that she’d probably never be able to stop smiling.  “It was perfect.  Look, I know I gave you a hard time for the whole matchmaking thing, and I’m kind of surprised you put up with me and my crap for as long as you did, but…I just wanted to say thanks.  Thanks for setting me up with Killian.  I have a feeling my life is never going to be the same, and I have you to thank for that.”

            Both roommates got up and enveloped her in a hug.  “I’m just glad to see you happy again, Emma.  You deserve it,” Mary Margaret said.

            “Now, maybe next time you’ll just go along with it, remembering that we’re always right,” Ruby said.

            “Ruby,” Emma said, “I have the distinct feeling that there will never be a need to matchmake for me again.”

 

_Notes:_

_\--And they lived happily ever afterward.  The End!_

_\--I don’t_ completely _discount the possibility of adding little one or two shots to this world I’ve created, but for now, I’m considering this story finished._

_\--Well, there you go.  I did warn you about the nearly obscene levels of fluff!  But, hey!  I figure Sunday’s 4b finale will probably be equal parts breathtaking romance, slapstick insanity, and terrible pain.  Knowing the writers, they’ll end on a cliff-hanger painful enough it’ll feel like they ripped our hearts out, so I figured we could all use a little pure, unadulterated fluffy romance to cushion the blow!_

_\--Thanks to everyone who’s read, favorite, commented and reviewed!  Your encouragement has really given me the boost I needed to continue on and finish this little au venture.  Unfortunately my own Caribbean Shores gala didn’t result in a ridiculously romantic date with Mr. Perfect a week later, but such is life.  Alas, Killian Jones only exists within the fictional world A &E created (and all the various and sundry fictional worlds we fanfiction writers have borrowed him for)!_

_\--Anyway, go forth and enjoy the last couple of days before the imminent death the finale will undoubtedly bring us all!_


End file.
